Saving Lives And Taking Names.

*does a little dance*

*falls over*

I've had a fear of needles ever since my first senior year of high school, when I got dizzy spells no one could explain despite a zillion blood tests. I've also wanted a tattoo for a very long time, and for a while I thought that getting one would be an awesome way to conquer my fear of needles.

Today certainly helped me get past that fear a bit, but I didn't get a tattoo. (Mom, Dad, you can breathe now). Instead, Ryan and I went down to the South Bend Medical Foundation and donated blood.

I. Donated. Blood.

I never thought I'd say that.

Ryan took a little while to get all set up, since his finger stick refused to go in the vial and his vein didn't want to give it up, but eventually they got him going and he filled his bag in, oh, 4 minutes. Up and moving around and everything.

Me...yeah. My finger stick was fine, I got set up just fine, my blood was cooperating...then the nurse asked me how I was doing, apparently because my lips were losing a little color. I was a little dizzy and weak, so I told her, and the next thing I knew they were telling me to take deep breaths and tilting my seat back and putting wet clothes on my wrists and neck and forehead. Aheh.

That helped a lot, and my blood finished up just fine. I was feeling better, so they had me get up and stand next to the seat. That was fine...until it wasn't, and I lay back down and they elevated my feet again and gave me some juice. Then I felt better again, and Ryan made me drink some more juice and eat some snacks before he finally let me leave.

Honestly, all told, it was a great experience. The worst part of it was feeling shitty, and that was my own damn fault for donating without a REAL meal beforehand. Second worst was the embarrassment, which was unnecessary since the nurses were really nice, and told me that it wasn't uncommon. Third worst was the anticipation, because, c'mon, who's better at psyching me out than me? And hell, FOURTH worst was the finger stick they did to make sure I wasn't, I dunno, diseased or something, and I HATE finger sticks.

The needle part? Barely made the top 5 worst things about the experience, and is totally ruled out by knowing that I helped. I kept telling myself that as I was waiting to donate--"You're scared of a needle? People are dying. GET OVER IT."

Everything else on the list can be easily avoided next time by simply getting a good meal beforehand. And trust me, I will. Steak dinner. Gallon of orange juice. Bucket of chicken. TONS OF CALORIES AND LIQUIDS, DUDE.

Well, I won't be able to avoid the finger stick. But that's okay.

SO, the rest of the day is going to be spent on the couch, drinking lots and eating some and generally resting up. Tomorrow looks to be strenuous...writing at Starbucks and a dollar movie. I don't know how I'll manage.

OH. Best moment of the day. As I was sitting with my juice, chatting with the nurse and waiting to not be light-headed:

Me: (To Ryan) You could carry me out to the car.
Ryan: I'm not supposed to be do any strenuous activity.
Me: ARE YOU CALLING ME FAT.
Nurse: OH! She got you good, man. You walked right into that one.
Ryan: I'm leaving you here.

:D