Taking something out of me

It would be nice if I were better at giving blood. As with many, I have at times anguished at my desk in the face of the current crisis, trying to figure out what I could do, how I could help. We have bought takeout (admittedly, I could do more of that, but Mary likes to cook the healthy stuff here at home, and indeed cooking is a nice family activity). I have also given to local businesses who put up GoFundMe campaigns to raise rent money and pass cash through to workers.

Then I heard there was a shortage of blood. Knowing that I had a body full of that, I made an appointment to give at a church in Durham at 4:30 on Friday. I had only given once before, back in 2007, and my experience was not great, and documented in this post. As we can see from a quick read of it, I feasted right before giving, and then had a difficult recovery.

This time I knew the drill. I had a solid lunch around 1 (spaghetti with clam sauce from a rather respectable can), then coffee at 2 and some nuts at 3:30. I hydrated well. When I got to the church in Durham, I attested that I had not been in any of the places I wasn't supposed to have been in nor done any of the things I was not supposed to have done. It was a pretty crowded room, but I was wearing my mask per recent CDC instructions and all the Red Cross people had on N95s and gloves. They were playing some jamming smooth soul classics.

I lay down on the little bed thingie after they sterilized it and dried it and Monica, who was attending to me, swabbed my arm down and looked for a vein. Eventually they got the needle in there and the blood started coming out. I was trying to read a boring article in The Economist, then I got bored and put my head back and closed my eyes. "Uh uh, don't close your eyes, keep reading" says Monica.

From there it went quickly downhill. I started feeling faint, sweating, and it became a code pink situation. Once more, they (by now Monica had help) put cold compresses on my forehead and around my neck and were fanning me and making me drink juice and eat Cheez Its. "You can stop the process if you want to" they told me and I was like "nuh uh, not if I've come all this way. I'm sweating, but I ain't dying."

Anyway, I got through it, but it was embarassing. Turns out that while you're not supposed to eat a big meal right before you give, I should have eaten more closer to the appointment. Or maybe I'm just not supposed to give blood. In the end, they took it, and I drove home after more snacks, with strict instructions to take it easy for the next 24-48 hours. Which gave me a very good excuse not to help Mary in the yard on Saturday, which was awesome.