Giving Blood (Or Not)

Two posts in one day. Lucky you.

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So, it's been four months since I last handed over (via my left arm vein) a big bag of O positive. So after work today, Steffi and I head over to the local community centre to partake in a lovely blood giving type party. Well, that was the plan.

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We arrive, have the compulsory glass of water and sit down before each being taken being a blue screen and asked out date of birth, if we've taken asperin in the last 7 days and if we've ever had sex with someone who injects themselves with blueberry juice whilst driving a heavy goods vehecle. All everyday questions.

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Then the mini needle comes out. They prick the end of your finger and drop the blood into a small test tube full of blue liduid. Only my finger won't bleed. My poor circulation has once again come up trumps. the poor nurse is squeezing my finger so tight that hers are turning blue. We finally get enough claret and she plops (strange word that) it into the tube. It's supposed to sink, mine does not. Fab!

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So it's onto the next table to have a blood test. A slightly bigger needle comes out to play and another lovely nurse takes a bit more blood. Then puts in in a machine before shaking her head and sighing.

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"OK, so your iron levels are not quite up at where they need to be. We need them to be at least 125."

"And mine is?"

"111"

"Oh, Bloody hell." (No pun intended)

" Yeah so you can't give today I'm afraid, you'll have to give it a year before you can donate again"

Bollocks!

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So, instead of getting myself prepared to give blood, I take the 'Iron Levels Down?' leaflet and sit nxt to Steffi (who also had to have an iron test but passed.)

She is mental and has to have a local anaesthetic to be able to give blood. A needle to stop the needle hurting, yeah that's brainy! But she's soon given her bag and is sitting up ready to head over to the food table to have a glass of squash and a penguin.

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Then she goes grey.

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She's quickly ushered back onto the bed and her feet are placed on a big pillow. Bloodyhell (there it is again) talk about drama queen. She's shaking like shaky thing and is a grey as a grey thing. I think it's time to call Gary. It's about ten minutes before she back sitting up again, swinger her legs over the side of the bed like a small child. Apparently she's desperate for the loo. All that water beforehand has made it's way through. So slowly, hand in hand. The two of us, the one who couldn't and the one who did but then went crazy, hobble to the loos.

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"Do you mind if I blog about this? I ask

"Just don't take my picture and put it on facebook. If you hear a thud from the cubicle, I've gone again, climb over and get me."

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Loves My Steffi