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.