That is what is written on the sticker I am sporting today. I gave blood this morning, at one of the United Methodist churches in town. I like giving blood there because it is convenient, they have the blood drives on a regular basis and they leave me alone when I am there. I tried giving at a church closer to the house one time, but the churchgoers kept trying to recruit me and even sent the pastor over to talk to me. Sorry, folks, I am just there to give blood, not to be enlisted.
There was a bit of excitement at the blood drive today. A rather large man had just finished giving and was walking over to the snack/rest area when he went down like a load of bricks. The American Red Cross people sprang into action and had him resting comfortably very quickly. I have no idea if he lost consciousness or just lost his legs, but he definitely did not look good, even 20 minutes or so later.
The ARC person attending to my donation told me, in no uncertain terms, that I was not to get up after my donation until she told me I could. Yes, ma'am! When she judged that my color was fine and that I seemed okay, she gave me clearance to get up...I told her that I was fine; after all, I have given birth so giving blood is a cakewalk! She laughed and heartily agreed - it was our own little "we are women, hear us roar" moment.
Although I feel fine and certainly had no issues with woozieness, giving blood takes more out of me (snicker, snicker) now than it used to...damn this getting older thing. I am chugging my extra liquids and taking it easy, but I still feel quite lethargic. Oh, well, it's a good excuse to do not much of anything the rest of the day!
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