I donated blood again today. I think they've got it in for me. In October the girl Glenda poked me in the left arm, and I clogged the needle. So they bandaged me up and stuck the right arm. Today, they poked me in the right arm, and after twisting that huge needle around and wobbling it side-to-side, they decided to bandage it up and go after the left arm.
I'm beginning to look like a junkie just from donating. The damn needles are bigger than pencil-lead. They always bruise me, and now they are leaving puncture scars. May as well rub some India ink into the hole to tattoo it. That way the girls won't have to search for the vein each time.
Good Grief. I should go to work as a phlebotomist. I'm sure I could do it easier and more accurately than OBI.
But I DO love the t-shirts they give, and the neon pink bandage, and the brownies with nuts, and the mountain dew, and the hour off work, and ...
Bad Poetry?
- MsAmber
- I am complex, yet simple. I am hearty and frail. I am selfish and generous. I let my emotions prevail. I want to make some sense of it. Of Life, and Love, and God. I want to bring back the simple things. I know that makes me odd. But if you'll stay and read awhile maybe you'll start to see. Then maybe I can share with you a little part of me. MsAmber
2 comments:
Yeah, but you're my hero for donating this time of year when there's usually such a huge shortage.
I tried giving blood years back but they told me that they couldn't accept my contribution since I'm anemic. You're doing this for BOTH of us!
Your my Hero MsAmber and always will be. I will kiss your boo-boos when I get home dear.
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