Best Laid Plans (don't read if you're squeamish) (Bonnie, this means you)

I try to donate blood every two months, but sometimes life gets in the way. But when I got the desperate "it's the holidays and we're low on blood" phone call of course I made an appointment.

It didn't go too well. Keep in mind that this was my 24th donation since we've lived in Eugene, so I should have the drill down. First off, my iron was low and the nurse lady seemed unsure whether I should donate or not. Finally, the all clear! Off to the comfy chair (which I truly do love). So I was poked and hooked up and was squeezing my rubber pickle (oh stop) like I usually do.

Gross part coming up.

I look at my arm and blood is spreading under the bandage thingee and starting to flow onto the arm. I say "um, excuse me, is this right?" (understatement) and two nurse ladies jump into high gear and get me cleaned up. I ended up donating about half of what I was supposed to, and I feel badly about that. But I can't help but think nurse lady #1 was not as diligent in her needle work as I think she should have been.

Back to knitting tomorrow.

Comments

Marlene said…
I had a bully of a nurse once who forgot to set the little clock thingy that says when you can sit up and leave. I sat up long after some of the people that came in later and she got all official on me and demanded that I lay down until told I could sit up. Big power struggle ensued and I've never been back. It's not so much that it was that horrendous, but I get anxiety attacks now just thinking about going in. Hah! I live in Canada. I was not paid for donating, and this scene was not much of a "thank you" for donating.