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i gave blood yesterday. the bloodmobile comes around every two months and people donate. it's something my father always did and i've occasionally thought about doing the same.

since i'm the one at work who posts the upcoming bloodmobile visit, it's pretty easy for me to know when it's happening. i haven't done it for awhile, so this time around i decided to try again.

try again? well, yes. since i had breast cancer 16 years ago, there was a long period of time when i couldn't donate. then, several years back, enough time had passed that i decided to donate when an urgent call went out. as soon as they started the draw, i came close to passing out. they laid the chair back, had me move my feet -- i felt like an idiot while they finished collecting and pacifying.

i didn't like that experience (i'm the oldest of four children, i should be an expert at everything), but thought surely i would be able to donate blood this time without problems. even though my veins are hard to find, roll around, collapse easily, i drink plenty of water and should be good to go.

so i went. there were mostly older people, like you'd expect, but while i was there a mid-20's gal came in and gave, and later a mid-20's guy did the same. i filled out the paperwork, waited for the chair (3 of them in this bloodmobile), climbed in and got comfortable, suffered through the VERY stinging stick, looked out the window and enjoyed the view while my blood drained away. after about 6 or 8 minutes, my body caught on to what i was doing and immediately called a halt. head got warm, body felt strange, vision starting going astral. i mentioned i didn't feel very good and they immediately arranged the chair position, told me to move my feet continuously, slapped two ice bags behind my neck, and gave me a small can of apple juice. i had actually lasted until they were finished drawing the blood (yay, me) and when i finished the apple juice and a cookie, i drank a small can of orange juice and ate another cookie. feeling better i drank a bottle of water and ate a third cookie before completely recovering.

they actually didn't invite me back, but i don't know if that was because they didn't want to push me into something i might not want to do, or if they really didn't want me to come back. i'm O-negative, so i'd think they'd just as soon i came back. maybe they just forgot.

i'd really like to be able to do this thing without the drama. i wonder if i just keep going every two months if my body will realize it's no big deal. sigh.