This weekend ended up being much more adventure- and shame-filled than I had originally anticipated. Before taking the GF for a short weekend away on Saturday, I stopped in to donate blood at the local blood center. Now I’ve given blood dozens of times, starting when I was 17. In fact when I first started I had no problem donating. I’d lay down, they’d stick me and 10 minutes later I’d be unplugged and chowing down on free pizza. These days however, I’m starting to notice more problems popping up when I donate. I get light-headed more often, and last year I got deferred for the first time due to low hemoglobin*. So given that, I knew I was in for a long day when the person drawing my blood immediately informed me that she was a trainee.
Now, let me state on the record that I have no problem with trainees. In fact when I was younger I was often the person given to trainees because my arm veins swelled up like footballs when the constrictor was put on my upper arm. These days, however, the veins don’t swell like they used to. Still, I respect the folks that train to do this, so I focused my attention on the almost-half-way-finished showing of “Ladder 49” playing on the television. After a copious amount of swabbing, she proceeded to insert the needle…and missed the vein. Rather than pulling out, she apparently decided to slash through the vein from the sid
e**, like Erroll Flynn in a musketeer-type silent film. When that seemingly failed, she pulled out a little to try again, at which point blood shot out of my arm, covering my arm and shoulder with blood in a scene right out of ER. I didn’t see the actual explosion itself*** but after analysis of the blood spurt pattern I have concluded that it looked something like the image at left...only more red.
Of course, at that point the trainee was benched and I was patched up. After liberal blotting of the stains using hydrogen peroxide, you could hardly even see the stains anymore****. Man, those old nurses know their stuff. I ended up getting the blood taken from my other arm, and then nearly only passing out once before I was allowed to leave about two hours after I walked in. All in all, this is getting to be pretty average. Maybe I’ll start avoiding trainees at this point just to be on the safe side.
The rest of the weekend was spent taking the GF to an exotic Valentines Weekend getaway in beautiful downtown Chicago. She had to work Saturday until about 4:00, so I figured it wouldn’t be worth it trying to get out of town. That said, I have to recommend playing tourist in your own city every now and again. We went out to a nice dinner at a cool new restaurant and then relaxing over champagne at the hotel. Sunday we walked around Michigan Avenue, trying hard to blend in with the tourists (even though we weren’t carrying the requisite American Girl Place shopping bags). I took opportunity of this time to give the GF pointers on gift ideas for me*****, and we watched some fur protesters harassing old women outside of Neiman Marcus.
Finally, after checking out of the hotel, we headed down to the valet to get th
e car. I proceeded through the revolving door and completely misjudged how far out the curve of the glass wall went – long story short I walked right into the side wall (see diagram at right). It wouldn’t have been so bad had the GF not been immediately behind me, in perhaps the best vantage point to watch my humiliation, ever. Mercifully, the only part of me hurt was my dignity, and to her credit, the GF’s hysterical laughter lasted for no more than five minutes. This is why I keep her around.
* Damn you no-iron-added men’s multivitamins!
** While still embedded in my arm, mind you. Yes, it hurt like heck.
*** I was trying to get into Joaquin Phoenix’s portrayal of a rebellious fire fighter with a heart of gold as a way to ignore the woman trying to carve her initials into my arm
**** And after washing, they were gone completely
***** I’m notoriously difficult to shop for, usually, if there’s anything I really want, I just buy it myself
Now, let me state on the record that I have no problem with trainees. In fact when I was younger I was often the person given to trainees because my arm veins swelled up like footballs when the constrictor was put on my upper arm. These days, however, the veins don’t swell like they used to. Still, I respect the folks that train to do this, so I focused my attention on the almost-half-way-finished showing of “Ladder 49” playing on the television. After a copious amount of swabbing, she proceeded to insert the needle…and missed the vein. Rather than pulling out, she apparently decided to slash through the vein from the sid
e**, like Erroll Flynn in a musketeer-type silent film. When that seemingly failed, she pulled out a little to try again, at which point blood shot out of my arm, covering my arm and shoulder with blood in a scene right out of ER. I didn’t see the actual explosion itself*** but after analysis of the blood spurt pattern I have concluded that it looked something like the image at left...only more red.Of course, at that point the trainee was benched and I was patched up. After liberal blotting of the stains using hydrogen peroxide, you could hardly even see the stains anymore****. Man, those old nurses know their stuff. I ended up getting the blood taken from my other arm, and then nearly only passing out once before I was allowed to leave about two hours after I walked in. All in all, this is getting to be pretty average. Maybe I’ll start avoiding trainees at this point just to be on the safe side.
The rest of the weekend was spent taking the GF to an exotic Valentines Weekend getaway in beautiful downtown Chicago. She had to work Saturday until about 4:00, so I figured it wouldn’t be worth it trying to get out of town. That said, I have to recommend playing tourist in your own city every now and again. We went out to a nice dinner at a cool new restaurant and then relaxing over champagne at the hotel. Sunday we walked around Michigan Avenue, trying hard to blend in with the tourists (even though we weren’t carrying the requisite American Girl Place shopping bags). I took opportunity of this time to give the GF pointers on gift ideas for me*****, and we watched some fur protesters harassing old women outside of Neiman Marcus.
Finally, after checking out of the hotel, we headed down to the valet to get th
e car. I proceeded through the revolving door and completely misjudged how far out the curve of the glass wall went – long story short I walked right into the side wall (see diagram at right). It wouldn’t have been so bad had the GF not been immediately behind me, in perhaps the best vantage point to watch my humiliation, ever. Mercifully, the only part of me hurt was my dignity, and to her credit, the GF’s hysterical laughter lasted for no more than five minutes. This is why I keep her around.* Damn you no-iron-added men’s multivitamins!
** While still embedded in my arm, mind you. Yes, it hurt like heck.
*** I was trying to get into Joaquin Phoenix’s portrayal of a rebellious fire fighter with a heart of gold as a way to ignore the woman trying to carve her initials into my arm
**** And after washing, they were gone completely
***** I’m notoriously difficult to shop for, usually, if there’s anything I really want, I just buy it myself
Comments
I think next weekend we'll have to plan to walk through a few revolving doors, though. :)
Whenever I think about giving blood, I get nervous. When I get nervous I run a fever. I can't win.
I do still like cookies, though.
Just skip the first three paragraphs and you'll find the rest of the weekend was just as funny and nowhere near as unsettling for you.