Giving Blood

Today I went to a blood drive to give blood, because it's good to do, and because I need to find out my blood type for the sake of my wife's pregnancy. It's been nearly ten years since my last visit to give blood or plasma, and there is good reason. Last time I gave, the doctor/nurse/medical student that was in training, didn't secure the needle into my arm properly. This led to saline being pumped directly into my arm, which resulted in my arm swelling up and turning purple from my arm pit to my wrist. I looked as if I had been hit by a car, and I passed out when trying to leave and had to be awakened with smelling salts. I was telling the nurse my story today as she was prepping my arm for the needle, and she assured me that today would be better. Well... they had "trouble" with my vein and my blood was pumping a bit too much, so she smirked at me and said, "Well it looks like your going to have a new blood giving story." They put an ice bag on my arm, wrapped it with a pressure strap, which is fluorescent green, and informed me I would have a large bruise. Not from my arm pit to my wrist, but, " it will be a really good one." I completely attribute the mishap to two things: First, this is my life, all of my friends can attest to "mishaps" like this being a regular occurence. Secondly, country music was playing in the back ground and I could feel evil spirits meandering around the room. This was sad to me as the blood drive was in a church, and I would think they would be more aware of the satanic influence of country music.

So my arm is sore, the bruise is growing, and my mind is being attacked with "play me some mountain music, like grandma and grandpa used to play." Thank you grandma and grandpa for not playing mountain music, and instead listening to the Detroit Tigers on an old radio while eating hamburger helper and playing UNO.

With less blood
Wallace D.