Not me, the blood bank.

I am famous around these parts for making appointments and forgetting them.  Even if I write it down in my agenda, even if I get a reminder call the day before, even if I get a reminder post card or business card.  My dentist’s office knows to call me the morning of to make sure I don’t forget, and now the blood bank does, too.  For the last three weeks they’ve been calling to remind me I’m eligible to donate again, and if I make an appointment the wait time won’t be as long.  I made three appointments.  The last time they called my son answered and he told me it was them.  I answered with “I am such a loser!!!  I am so sorry I forgot!!  Can I come this Monday and can you pretty please call me that morning to remind me???”

After some laughter and reassurances that it was fine I had missed the other appointments, I was set for 4:00 p.m. today.  Except…

I neglected to do some heavy drinking over the weekend.  I started this morning, but it wasn’t good enough.  They stuck me in my left arm.  It hurt like a sumthin’ sumthin’.  There was wincing and gnashing of teeth.  Perhaps a few whimpers.  After much starting and stopping, they got a whopping 4 ml out of me.   4 ML!!!!  That’s less than a teaspoon!!!  I offered my right arm in the hopes it would help, but no.  It was much worse.  The vein kept rolling, and when they finally did get it I didn’t even manage 1 ml.  It was so sad…

I double-fisted at the blood bank and all I got to show for it was my 24 points and some neon green bandages.

(insert game show type “Wah-wah-wahhhhhh!” here)

They said I could come back next week.  I promised I would.

You know.

If they call.


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