Bleeding

I gave blood for the one hundred and ninety fourth time today. Actually, its been one hundred seventy two whole blood donations, and twenty two platelet donations, mostly double donations. I didn't even know about donating platelets until a few years ago, otherwise i would have done it far more than twenty two times by now.

I started in 1975, at the tender age of twenty, because i was led to do it by a beautiful blonde, and this summer will complete my thirty eigth year of donating. Kinda makes me light headed to think about it. The idea of retiring keeps entering the back of my mind with increasing frequency, but i keep dismissing it.

Donate till i drop? Maybe. The thing is, for some strange reason, for whatever reason, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier, and if anything, it might be a bit harder now. Not sure why. You would think that with all that practice and experience by now it would be a piece of cake, easier than ever. Seems like it should be that way. Maybe its just age. Older, weaker, more vulnerable to stress and fatigue, i dunno.

I have never looked at the needle in my arms, and only upon rare occasion have i seen my own blood. Just aint interested. And, i kinda like to talk to someone while bleeding, it seems to relax me. A lot of people tell me they would donate, because its a wonderful thing to do, but they just can't, because of a temendous hatred of needles.

Whatever. That excuse don't cut it in my book; if i can deal with needles and my own blood leaving my body, so can anyone else. One time i gave platelets with the needle in my right arm and the machine by my left side, so that the blood was running through a tube, across my abdoman, across my body, to its destination.

Suddenly it seemed to me as if half my blood was outside my body; i could see it! I nearly panicked, and had to force myself to calm down, and not bolt and run. I made sure from then on that needle and machine were on same side of body, with no tubes crossing my body, warming me with my own blood, externally.

A time or two i popped back open at the post donation snack table, so i am never in a hurry to stop applying pressure, or to leave. Then, there was the time while donating platelets that my arm began to ache incredibly, the nurse pulled the needle halfway through, and the next day my entire arm was black.

Hell I remember when i was young, i could work out, then donate blood, or donate first, then go work out; young and stupid, but no more. I have a rare virus free blood, strange, considering some of the girlfriends I've had, but be that as it may, i can donate to infants.

But enough of that. Suffice to say, i look back on it all with a dreamlike detachment, and amusement. Try it; you'll like it.