I Guess There is No DIGNIFIED Place to Faint......

.....but come on, the bank?

Really?

I gave blood today, and I've had problems in the past after donating blood. The dizziness usually hits me when I'm in the "canteen" area having juice and cookies. I can tell when it's coming, and I know to let the staff know so they can put me on the Stretcher of Shame. I also discovered years ago that yawning is an indication that I'm going to faint. A nurse told me that yawning was an indication that my blood was starved for oxygen, and that many people yawn right before they die.

Thanks for that little pick-me-up.

Today I felt fine after my donation. I sat in the canteen area the requested 10-15 minutes (closer to 10 - I had a lunch date with the Warrior Princess). I left to go run an URGENT errand for Hubby (SOMEONE who shall remain nameless but has been known to walk in his sleep and enter closets came to the golf course with no beer, immediately causing a situation of national security. Or insecurity. Whatever.) and I still felt fine. I met the Warrior Princess at the restaurant, and we had a lovely time chatting and enjoying lunch. Then I followed her back to the bank so she could take care of some internet banking business for me. I filled out some forms, signed some papers, and thanked the heavens above for the Warrior Princess. Again. It's wonderful having a friend in the banking business.

That's when things began to go a little wrong. I was ready to leave, but the tremendous buzzing in my ears told me that perhaps I shouldn't drive. Warrior Princess offered to let me sit in an unused office, but I said I was fine. And then my color abandoned me. And I started yawning. And then I sort of woke up on the floor in the unused office. Not at all sure how I got there. I heard a man ask if we needed help, and Warrior Princess assured him things were fine, it was only related to my blood donation. Thank goodness for that. Fainting in the bank is embarrassing enough; if anyone had called 9-1-1, I would have been permanently humiliated.

Eventually I felt well enough to drive home (over WP's protests, but I wasn't going to take her away from her job to drive me home), and I felt much better by the time I got home. I checked my blood pressure out of curiosity, and it was 93/54. Hello! I don't know how low is TOO low, but that's way low for me. No telling how low it was when I was still at the bank.

Oddly enough, I have never had blood donation problems when I was fat/obese. I don't reckon that's reason enough to put the weight back on, though.

I'm just pretty sure I can never go back to the bank.

Back in the Swing of Donating.....

After my year-long deferment resulting from my trip to the Dominican Republic, I was finally able to donate blood again today.

The whole process takes about 45 minutes, depending on how long I have to sit in the canteen area. Or in some rare cases, lie down on the Cot of Shame.

To donate the pint of blood, however, only takes 5 minutes and 41 seconds. That wasn't even enough time to take a nap.

My iron count was excellent, my blood pressure was excellent, and the woman didn't bat an eye when I lied about my weight.

Even my veins cooperated today, and she only had to stick me once.

And boys and girls, I learned this week what the most commonly shoplifted item is. It isn't condoms, which was my guess.

What do you think it is?

Faint or Flight.....

I have a new twist on the old "fight or flight" reaction. Mine is "faint or flight."

I went to give blood again today, just like I do like clockwork every eight weeks. At least this time I was successful at donating a whole pint, unlike the last time. However, I had to go to time-out when I was finished.

I knew it was coming toward the end of my donation. I was getting very irritated with the technician who took my blood. He was just silly, and I had no tolerance for silly at that particular moment. The worse I felt, the more he got on my nerves. [Side note: It wasn't just me, either. Right before I left, the shift supervisor had him in the corner, and she was reaming him a new one.] For those of you who have been through childbirth [okay, I realize EVERYONE has been through childbirth, but I meant the ones who have actually GIVEN birth], it was sort of like that transition period when you get close to delivering, where you hate everyone in sight, including the person who made you pregnant. Maybe ESPECIALLY the person who made you pregnant.

Right after I decided I may have to kill this young man before I left, I started yawning. I didn't know it until a couple of years ago, but yawning is a bad sign when you're giving blood. I think it indicates the brain isn't getting enough oxygen, and that means you're going to faint. The nurse who told me that said it's quite common for people to yawn right before they die. Thanks for that.

Anyway, the dude who was already getting on my last nerve was speeding me toward the juice-and-cookie table, and I had to ask him to lean my chair back (they usually do that automatically) and let me rest for a minute. Then I felt well enough to go get some snacks, but after sitting at the table for a few minutes the edges started to go black. And voices were coming from a great distance. I finally interrupted a conversation to ask someone to help me lie down.

It's so embarrassing. I give blood six times a year, and this only happens about every four or five years, so I guess that's not too bad a record. But it makes me feel STUPID. I'm afraid people think I get woozy at the sight of blood, and that's not it at all.

Oddly enough, when the feeling first hits me, initially all I can think about is, "I've got to get out of here." I get the feeling that I can outrun this dizziness, this weakness, this embarrassing lack of stamina. Whatever.

The first time I ever gave blood, years ago, I had just started working at the veterinary school on campus. I was sitting in the canteen area feeling so proud of myself, when everything started to get fuzzy and dark. I thought to myself, "I don't know any of these people. I don't want to faint in front of all of these people." So I left and staggered down the hall to my office, where I fainted all by myself. Smart, huh.

Today at least I didn't run away. The volunteers there helped me to a reclining chair and put a wet cloth on my neck. And thank God, they now have a screen that they put up around the weak and infirm so the other donors don't sit there and gawk. Or perhaps get scared and back out of their own donations.

I don't have enough medical knowledge to understand why this happens only sometimes. My theory is that the faster I give a pint of blood, the more likely I am to faint. Today my donation took 4 minutes and 45 seconds. But how do you slow down your blood flow? Hmmmmm...

I also don't understand that urge to flee. And I'm glad that when it hit I wasn't on my Harley.

Sad Friday.....

....every year I know it's coming. The day we have to close the pool for the winter. I think hubby tries to get it closed earlier and earlier every year. Not that he doesn't love it....it's a close race between the two of us. But just let that one random rogue leaf fall in early September, and he's looking for the cover. Me, I would swim into October (and we did one year, just so we could say we had). But I have to admit that once school starts, the time factor keeps us from spending any time at all in it. And it was a little "refreshing" the last time I got in it, which was last weekend. So I have to put on my big girl panties and face the fact that summer is really, really over.


On another sad note.....

.......it has to rank up there with spectacular failure when you suck at GIVING BLOOD. Oftentimes the technicians (is that what they're called?) have trouble sticking my veins, because the little suckers tend to roll around and hide once it gets down to business. I'm not squeamish.....I watch while they put the needle in. So I don't think it's a psychological shut-down or anything. My veins just want to be left alone to do their blood-pumping business without the rude intrusiveness of needles.

It's rare that they can get a good stick with the first try. Sometimes they switch arms. (No, they don't switch with me....they try the other one.) Sometimes they stick the needle under the skin and then just go digging around for a nearby vein. It really doesn't bother me.....much. There isn't much pain, and if I bruise the next day, it's just a badge of honor.

I was just about to praise the girl today for getting blood on the first try when she shook her head and said, "Uh oh." She picked up the bag of blood (what little there was) and shook it back and forth, as if that would help the blood that hadn't flowed yet. I didn't quite get that. Then she told me to keep wiggling my fingers around the little squeezey thing they give you, because that might "fool the body." Whatever. My blood just clotted, first around the cavernous hole she had managed to create, and then in the tubing itself.

I know it's not my fault. The only other time I was unsuccessful at donating blood, I had just started taking some potent diet pills that were evidently loaded with a truckload of caffeine, and my blood just wouldn't flow. That was my last day on those damn pills. I will accept the blame for that particular failure. Today, however, was just a fluke. I drank water all day long, as I do almost every day, so I know I wasn't dehydrated.


Still, I feel terrible that someone may not get a blood transfusion that he or she desperately needs because my veins/blood/technician suffered from incompetence.

But since it's Friday, I refuse to leave on a negative note. Tomorrow I should have something super duper, amazing, wonderful, happy, terrific, exciting to share. I'm afraid to say what it is lest I somehow jinx it. And it doesn't have a thing to do with college football.