Give Blood!

I gave blood today. Gee whizz, it was a bit of an effort. First of all, as I'm still limping and walking slower than most people, I left the office a little earlier than most people (giving myself half an hour rather than the twenty minutes I'd have otherwise left for the trip) so I missed the email telling everyone not to come because the session was cancelled on 'health and safety' grounds. Apparently they meant that they couldn't get the equipment up the stairs safely.
So, the five people from different businesses throughout the city who turned up to donate, had to wait around and be bundled into the van to be whisked (I exaggerate somewhat) up to the main donor centre where, as usual, it was going like a train with a fair queue to donate.
However, there was the compensation of being crammed up beside a very handsome young Frenchman who was also donating. Which was nice, though I do wonder if he noticed the drool stains on his pea jacket. Slurp. But I digress.
Next of course came the questioning at the reception desk and the shocking discovery that I have two accounts with them. Yes, two. That would be because I gave a donation once while I lived in Fort William, ten years ago, and they have not yet updated my records, in spite of promising to do so every time.
So, after that, on to the interminable questionnaire. Have I had sex with anyone who might be HIV positive? That would be a no, unless my husband has been playing around and not told me. Well, let's be honest, the chances of being told are pretty slim, aren't they, so why ask the question on the form? Do I jokingly say, "Not unless my hubby has been playing the field?" Do I hell. That is the route to another half hour of counselling. I tick the box for having an open wound because I have a small nick where I picked a ragged finger nail off the other day.
MISTAKE!
This small redness nearly gets me disbarred from making my donation. I tell you, you really have to fight to be allowed to give blood! Finally, with a promise to inform them if my finger becomes infected, I am given the finger prick test. Of all the sensitive areas to take a blood sample from - the fingertip must be one of the worst. I had to point out to the lady that she had swabbed the tip of one finger and was about to take it from the tip of another, so after rectifying that, my blood is tested - and I fail. As usual, my haemoglobbin is low.
I have always, always, always been around the 12.3 mark. I almost NEVER pass the finger prick test. So it's off to the next room to get a venous sample taken. So I get bloods taken from one arm just to test it again through the machine. I fail again - 12.3. (The limit used to be 12.0, so I scraped through, but the EC in their wisdom, put it up to 12.5 a few years back, so now I struggle.) The nurse assures me she'll try again as she didn't put much through last time and so she does. In the meantime, outside, days have become weeks, have become years. Civilisations have risen and fallen. Martians have invaded and gone home, bored. She puts it through again - EUREKA! 12.7 - my highest rating EVER!!!!
So it's on to the donation room where I wait again.
I notice the Frenchman again, but as I sidle towards him he is called away and I am frustrated in my stalkerish efforts. So on we go, over to the donation bed/chair. Unfortunately the arms are very moveable, and every time I try to pull myself up using one (they're quite high) I fail miserably.
Eventually I face the chair directly, throw my knees into it and pull myself up into it using my hands on the headrest. At that point someone asks me if I need help. "No thanks," I chirp, hoping no one has been taking any photographs.
Finally the blood flows and after 15 minutes I'm done. Thank heavens. Why do I bother? Because it's important. We should all try to. And let's face it, if I can put up with all of that every time I try to donate, what's stopping you?