I never tire of giving blood, if only for the love and respect shown me. I've posted before that I am O negative, thus universally beloved and desired. My iron is better lately, and I have extremely lovely veins of a sky-blue hue. Today's donation, organized by my do-gooder husband, was up in the skyscraper of his office, so I was nervous that the altitude might affect me (that or giving next to a bunch of lawyers). Best to shore up one's iron with a Charburger. Oh so tasty and greasy and yes, I did have the fries as well.
At some point during my rapid donation (I also give really quickly and boy, do they heap the praise on that quality!), I started grimacing. Several nurses attended...but I was only worried about my husband. Across the way, he was getting stuck multiple times and was moaning and groaning. Apparently lack of hydration can make your veins not as supple as, say, mine. And Mr. Dark Magic every morning had already had his coffee and then some. Poor guy. They finally got the needle in but not without a lot of poking.
I saw my friend Dean at the blood drive. He said he was there because "it's all about the snacks". Hear, hear. I skipped the options due to my earlier beef-fest, but was very interested in the icing-filled oatmeal cookie and the Orangeade. High fructose corn syrup plays a prominent role in our society, especially within the blood donation community.
Ok, I must go rest my point of entry in my heaving, buxom veins and pamper myself the rest of the day.
Tomorrow, after all, I'm going to Williamsburg with the entire 5th grade for the day. I doubt I'll feel any love nor respect on that trip.