I could never be chronically ill in such a way that required the frequent drawing of blood. I tend to get faint. It’s one of those things that maybe I should feel insecure or unmanly about, but how can I feel that way about something over which I have no control?
I passed out one time getting out of the bathtub. My Sweet Lady has a definite “anti” stance on long hot baths these days. Another time I was reading a medical website concerning a groinal issue. I knew enough to guide my own fall. I have not kept the pattern up, but today may be my day.
Any second now, they will call me back and ask me very personal questions prior to sticking a needle in my arm. I started doing this back in school because giving blood meant a cheap drunk. After I quit drinking, there was the Little Debbies. There do not seem to be any Swiss Cake Rolls here today. There are Choc-o-Lunches up in here.
And the usual set of questions. Except they get you to read all the questions ahead of time and then get you to click off answers on the computer. There was one question in the book that was not on the form, “have you ever been raped?” Do they just ask the girls this? If you answer “yes” do you get kicked out? I suppose I understand the rationale, but I think that sucks. Of course, rape in general sucks.
What doesn’t suck is that I have not passed out yet. Grandmas chocolate chip cookies may be classier than Little Debbies, but I’m still a little disappointed. The orange juice is good though.