Thursday, September 18, 2008

I was going to donate my blood; you didn't have to nearly kill me for it!

I gave blood yesterday. There was a time when I donated blood on a fairly regular basis. Back when I had time to be a do-gooder. When I traveled to Honduras in 2005, I wasn’t allowed to give blood for one year because I had been to a country where I could have been exposed to malaria and I had to have a blue million shots and a prescription of anti-malaria meds. They don’t want your blood if those things have been floating around in there. I sort of got out of the habit of donating after that. We actually had a blood drive at work yesterday, so I signed up to donate. I thought it was a good time to get back in that habit again. They brought the little blood bus out to us and they actually paid us to go out and give blood. It was really cool.
When it was my turn to roll up my sleeve, I got the chatty phlebotomist. Why do I always get people who want to talk my leg off? Seriously, there were no phones ringing, no people wanting this and that from me, I could just lean back and relax for ten minutes. No, I have the guy who wants to sing every song that comes on the radio and talk my leg off. I wanted to tell him “Please be quiet so I can enjoy this time without my phone ringing. Thank you.” But, I really couldn’t say that to him, so I had to listen to him yak on and on and sing and aggravate me. I should have taken the needle and gouged his eyes out. That would have stopped him from yakking so much don’t you think?
Anyhow, Mr. Phlebotomist preps me for my donation. He swabs my arm with something for at least 45 seconds and then tells me “Now you will feel a little stick and a sting.” Yeah, I’ve done this a bunch of times. I know the drill. Then, he sticks me and I almost went through the roof of the blood bus. I thought he cut my arm in half. The pain shot up my arm and I had tears in my eyes. It hurt like hell. He blamed it on the tourniquet. The tourniquet, hell, his blood drawing skills was the problem, not the tourniquet. He loosened the tourniquet and it didn’t help much, but I didn’t want to tell him “My arm still hurts because you didn’t get the needle in there right.” I have no right to tell him he didn’t do his job right when I have no clue how to do his job. I just know from experience it wasn’t right. I also didn’t want to be stuck a second time. I am a fast bleeder, so I knew it would be over soon. Okay, I prayed it would be over soon.
I was able to fill my blood bag in about seven minutes. I told you I am a fast bleeder. I ate my yogurt and fruit and got the hell off the blood bus. I was in so much pain I thought my arm was going to fall off. Plus, I was tired of listening to Mr. I Really Can’t Shut Up Phlebotomist sing another bad 80’s tune. Yes, I would have really rather dealt with my phone ringing. I hurried back to my desk and popped four Advil and prayed for the pain to cease. Or, I was going to go hack my arm off in the bathroom with a plastic knife and spoon.
I have a nice bruise on my arm today, but thankfully the pain is gone. After three doses of Advil, I should be feeling like a million dollars and my liver is close to having toxic levels of meds. I hope Mr. Phlebotomist found someone else to serenade because maybe there is someone in the world who could appreciate him and his voice. I couldn’t be counted among those people because I am too mean and cranky. Actually, my problem is lack of sleep. I am have been working both jobs this week, except last night when I met my sorority sisters for dinner. I am so tired I could put my head down on this desk and fall asleep, even with the awful live music we are having tonight (Gotta love bad versions of All My Ex’s Live in Texas and Johnny B. Good…oh yes, I so want this guy to play at my next event…not!). I didn’t want to get up this morning and go to the gym, but I felt like such a fat ass after eating out last night, I knew I had to get up and do something. I just have to make it through tomorrow and then I can sort of sleep in Saturday because I have to work Saturday morning from 10 until 3. We are having Girls Night Out Saturday night, which should be fun!!! Just one more day of doing both jobs and Saturday morning should be easy. Next week however is going to be a big pain because I am moving Friday and I have not packed the first box. Yeah, can you say someone will be a big pain in the ass next week because she didn’t get stuff done prior to this move? No, I have no idea who that pain in the ass would be. Only 15 more minutes here in Country Music Hell…not like I’m counting or anything. Until next time, Diva Divine

No comments: