Friday is Blood Day

Donated blood today for the first time in about six months and I was reminded both of some of the benefits of the procedure and how people in white coats with medical equipment can sometimes cause me to act funny.

The benefits: I had my pulse (57), temperature (okay, I guess, because they didn't say anything), blood pressure (ditto) taken by a professional. Well, by someone in a white coat, anyway. I had the iron in my blood tested (15.3, whatever that means). And I was asked a series of questions about where I travel, who I hang around with, how often I get a piercing or a tattoo, and how many days in a row I've spent in jail (I don't know what happens to people after they've spent two days in jail that would preclude them from giving blood, but I don't think I want to find out.)

The oddness: I let these perfect strangers stick me with a needle, ask me personal questions, and confirm my social security number. And that was before I even got to the part where I gave the blood. My favorite part was when I had to roll up my sleeves so that they could check my veins. I assume they do this because they really want to check my veins and because they want to make sure that I'm not an IV drug user. Anyway, whenever I get to this part, the people in the white coats always get very excited about my veins. "Wow, what great veins," the person helping me said today.

And then I went in to do the actual blood-giving. They had me lie down on a padded table while the technician examined my arm. My arm was at my side and I couldn't really see what she was looking at, but I could hear her very clearly. "Well that's weird."

I don't care what the situation is, I simply don't want to hear someone wearing a white coat who's examining any part of my body to say that.

I thought about ignoring it. After all, I'm a veteran blood donor. But I just couldn't.

"What's weird?" I asked.

"Your veins," she said. "They're just so thick."

Three thoughts flashed through my mind. The first was to make an inappropriate remark about the thickness of other veins and vein-like appendages. I refrained. The second was to just say "thank you," but I couldn't tell if she was being complimentary or not. The third thought was just how quickly I could get to a computer and Google "thick veins" to see what that might portend.

So I didn't reply at all. I squeezed the rubber ball and waited patiently for the bag to fill up and then I went and got some cookies and juice. I waited the required 15 minutes and then went back to work, another donation in the books.