A BLOODY PROBLEM

 

The last time I donated blood, the nurse was unable to draw any from my left arm. I could feel the needle moving under my flesh. They were forced to stick me in the other one. This has happened before. 

Only this time, the blood from my other one stopped flowing. It’s as if my body was refusing to give it up! And I could see blue veins surfacing all the way down my arm.

“This is strange,” the nurse remarked. Then she complained about having to sit there the whole time urging my blood to flow.

“I always have problems with her!” another responded.

Geez! Just because I have a needle in my arm doesn’t mean I’ve gone deaf. I was startled to hear this! I had no idea I was always considered a problem.

And the nurses were now reacting like I was doing this on purpose, -- as if I had that kind of control! In fact, mentally I was saying: flow, flow, flow! I want to get out of here; I’ve errands to run!

That month, the free gift was another T-shirt. I wear those. They’re perfect for grocery shopping & dentist/doctor visits. Just add a coordinating pair of slacks and I’m dressed, without being dressy.

This time, I wasn’t offered one and had to ask! I was told there were none left in my size. All they had was large. I said, “Give me one of those, I know how to shrink them.”

This is easy with that material. Just throw it into the washer, set on hot & then toss into the dryer. And magically you get a smaller size! Keep doing this until you get the right fit.

As to the ones already my size, those need to be hand-washed in cold water, then dried flat.

I was given one but almost had to twist the nurse’s arm to get it.

As I was leaving, I noticed they seemed relieved to be rid of me. -- I should have grabbed even more free bags of Doritos from the snack station before I left!

Several months before, I hired a young tech guy to help me with a computer issue. He informed me that he too had been a frequent blood donor. But discontinued when he developed unsightly bumps in the area where the needle was inserted.

I had no idea then what he was talking about!

But after my last donation, these bumps appeared! I’ve got a big one on the arm where the blood stopped flowing!  And a smaller one on the other arm. Plus, the skin is all messed-up and looks terrible. And I doubt it’s going to bounce back at my age.

No more blood donations for me, at least not any time soon.

I don’t want this to discourage anyone from donating, -- although I’m probably doing exactly that! This is so important; all types of blood are desperately needed!  Lives are at stake! And there must be a way around this.

Perhaps if I’d spaced out my donations longer, this could have been avoided. Instead of donating every 8 weeks, I should have waited 16 or longer. However, being on a fixed income, I really needed that $20 (often more) coupon for groceries, and I will miss it.

I feel awful about this all the way around!

WHOOZ TATTOOZ

 

Decades ago, outside my previous home, I stood with my father as we chatted with our yard man. I noticed a huge portrait of a woman’s face tattooed on his upper arm. The name WANDA was underneath.

“That must be your wife!” I exclaimed, pointing.

“No,” he replied, “my wife’s name is Emma. Wanda is someone I used to know.”

Wanda apparently made quite an impression on him, -- also a lasting one!

Silently, I wondered how Emma felt about Wanda. I’m sure there was an interesting story connected to her, but it wasn’t my business to pry.

As we walked away, my father whispered to me, “His wife is blind.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” I replied, “I wonder how long it took him to find a blind woman to marry.”

Dad chucked.

Personally, I’ve never had a desire for a tattoo. It’s tantamount to wearing the same outfit every day. Taste, like everything else, changes over time.

But of course, there’s cosmetic tattooing! I’ve had my lips done several times only to watch it fade significantly in mere months. This process needs to be redone completely. Each time the price hiked, but my income didn’t, so I stopped.

At my father’s memorial service in 2001 I noticed the aging spouse of a relative had her eyebrows recently tattooed, they were thick and dark, unlike when she was younger. I said nothing, but this woman sure looked spooky!

And I once dated a man whose own name was tattooed in large letters on his bicep. He explained that he liked his name. Well, I like my name, too! But you don’t see me wearing a necklace displaying it in big letters!

I took this as a red flag, which later proved to be correct. In retrospect, I’m surprised the guy didn’t have a red heart tattooed around it.

Tattoos can be artistically beautiful. But I’d rather sport the designs on a T-shirt rather than upon my body.