as if i have low iron
As I sat outside Jordan's piano lesson in the van, it occurred to me that today was bloodletting day. I called Canadian Blood Services, and lo and behold, I was right! Jordan's lesson ended at 7:30 and the lady on the phone informed me that they'd take people right up until 7:55 so I figured I could make it. I raced Jordan home (good thing too, because I followed a police car halfway to the blood clinic. they really mess with your road times) and walked in the door of the church at 7:50. Booyeah! I happily chatted up the lady while she marked me in for the appointment and gave me the card.
I'm sure that by the 10th hour they're pretty happy when people walk in the door all excited to tell them about how they haven't given blood in months because of busy schedules and just how happy they are to be there tonight! I know! It's true!
I told the iron-checker lady (these are real titles. look it up) the same thing. She was genuinely happy for me I'm sure, and I was looking forward to 90 minutes of reading my book and bleeding.
I even had a clever caption all ready to go for the picture of the whole thing I was going to post on facebook.
Well guess whose iron was too low at 120. Whatever that means. Was it the guy in the chair next to me? No. Was it the guy who had been in my chair moments before I sat in it? Again - no. It was me. What the heck? I was seriously disappointed. Like, seriously. Like, seriously enough for me to actually talk like this in real life.
She asked if I would like to talk to the nurse about how to fix myself and become a better member of the bloodletting community. I said no. I told her to check again. She said, sadly, no. They used to check again. I was going to think really bloody thoughts the second time too. Apparently they can't check again anymore. So sad.
I'm sure it had nothing to do with...
... going for six mile run this morning and then coming home and kind of forgetting to drink water and instead drinking a 16 ounce coffee from Tim's. I had farmer sausage for supper. It's reddish.
How much steak does a person have to eat to give blood? They're always on about needing it. Fricking take it! Actually, if they could take, oh, let's say about 15 pounds off the top I'd really appreciate it.
Anyway. I am now home, on the couch, remoteless, iphoneless and cordless phoneless (that last one was really awkward).
Hoping your bloody evenings are way bloodier than mine.
(See what I did there? I know. Legendary)
(Also, Mitchie just tried to crawl into the living room to sneak something. Instead of yelling at him to go back to bed I'm going to get him to get me all my stuff. Only then will I yell at him. It's called parenting.)
(He can't reach. The kid needs to eat more, oh I don't know, something to make him taller. Or just something. He should really eat something.)
I'm sure that by the 10th hour they're pretty happy when people walk in the door all excited to tell them about how they haven't given blood in months because of busy schedules and just how happy they are to be there tonight! I know! It's true!
I told the iron-checker lady (these are real titles. look it up) the same thing. She was genuinely happy for me I'm sure, and I was looking forward to 90 minutes of reading my book and bleeding.
I even had a clever caption all ready to go for the picture of the whole thing I was going to post on facebook.
Well guess whose iron was too low at 120. Whatever that means. Was it the guy in the chair next to me? No. Was it the guy who had been in my chair moments before I sat in it? Again - no. It was me. What the heck? I was seriously disappointed. Like, seriously. Like, seriously enough for me to actually talk like this in real life.
She asked if I would like to talk to the nurse about how to fix myself and become a better member of the bloodletting community. I said no. I told her to check again. She said, sadly, no. They used to check again. I was going to think really bloody thoughts the second time too. Apparently they can't check again anymore. So sad.
I'm sure it had nothing to do with...
[My phone is ringing and I'm in the house alone under a blanket. I think I'll let it go to machine. Oh crap, my cell-phone is in the front entrance and the remote control for the TV is on top of the piano. This day just KEEPS GETTING WORSE!]
... going for six mile run this morning and then coming home and kind of forgetting to drink water and instead drinking a 16 ounce coffee from Tim's. I had farmer sausage for supper. It's reddish.
How much steak does a person have to eat to give blood? They're always on about needing it. Fricking take it! Actually, if they could take, oh, let's say about 15 pounds off the top I'd really appreciate it.
Anyway. I am now home, on the couch, remoteless, iphoneless and cordless phoneless (that last one was really awkward).
Hoping your bloody evenings are way bloodier than mine.
(See what I did there? I know. Legendary)
(Also, Mitchie just tried to crawl into the living room to sneak something. Instead of yelling at him to go back to bed I'm going to get him to get me all my stuff. Only then will I yell at him. It's called parenting.)
(He can't reach. The kid needs to eat more, oh I don't know, something to make him taller. Or just something. He should really eat something.)
Comments
You've had a C-section? That's surgery, you'll have to wait to donate.
You've had a miscarriage? For whatever reason, you have to wait.
You've had a c-section? That's still surgery, you'll have to wait to donate.
And then throw in a busy life and kids to work around and well, it's just not going to happen. The way I look at it, if they would rent a bouncy castle and a couple of babysitters at the donor clinic, their numbers would go way up. Just sayin!