Third Time’s the Charm

After my recent experiences with medical professionals and lab work and needles and whatnot, when it came time for the blood drive at my work, I figured, why not?

I hadn’t given blood since 2006; back then, though, I had given at two drives in a row. The second experience was so physically uncomfortable, so unlike the first, that I found reasons not to donate again. Some of those reasons were completely viable, like being pregnant. Some were more of a stretch, like being concerned that I wouldn’t be able to take a nap after work like I did before, since I have Connor to wrangle now.

At any rate, I’d enjoyed such good phlebotomists with my lab work of late that I finally realized that there was no reason I shouldn’t re-up my donor karma.

So I did. This morning.

My donor card, of course, was long out-of-date. My donor ID was no longer valid, and wouldn’t scan into their system. (However, I found that when I created an account on, they do still have my donor history saved!) I sat down with the nice man and did all the prerequisites, including iron count, pulse and BP (both good), easy questions, and finally the uncomfortable/amusing questions (which they now ask via computer, which is faster and less awkward).

The prelims took longer than the actual donation, I think.

Donating blood

Once I got situated in my elevated lawn chair and everything was in place and the nice lady confirmed my name and birthday, I filled up the donation bag pretty quick. Got unhooked from my tubes, needle removed, bandages applied (including red self-adherent wrap tape instead of the old-school gauze and sticky tape), and off to the canteen table I went. A small can of apple juice and a pack of raisins later, I was on my way back up to my desk.

Apple juice FTW!

The new-fandangled bandage tape

It was so uneventful, it was almost not even worth blogging about.


I did feel kind of tired afterward, but no more so than usual. I managed an easy walk outside in the heat over my lunch break… but I compensated for fatigue by eating more sugar and carbs than I should have.

I’m not sure I’ll donate every single time — at least, not right off the bat. Maybe every other time, though. Until someone sticks me so bad that the whole donation hurts and I bruise like a motherfucker afterward.

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