The other day we asked everyone to try to give blood and when we searched for nearby blood drives ourselves we found out the Mets were hosting a blood drive at Citifield, which is a short distance from our home. So bright and early this morning, before going to the hospital, Amy and I headed over there to do our part.
Now, to be honest, I really hate giving blood. The phlebotomists always need to poke me and then dig around with the needle under my skin until they hit gold — not a pleasant experience. But I was doing this to give back after all the blood that Benjamin received, so I was willing to put up with a little pain.
The set up at the ballpark was impressive – it seemed like a triage center and was already busy after only being open for 15 minutes. Amy and I separated and answered the questions to make sure we hadn’t traded money or drugs for sex, caught malaria or ate a lot of British beef in the early 90’s.
I warned the Red Cross staff member taking my blood that I was going to be a tough case. She seemed up for it and after some semi-painful poking got some blood flowing into the bag.
But then after a bit, more and more nurses kept looking at my hook-up and bag and started poking me again. Eventually I learned I actually have no blood – that I’m a robot or something. Either that or I just have very small veins, veins that got smaller after they made me bruise up. The nurse actually told me “You probably shouldn’t give blood.” The half a unit they got out of me was not usable, unfortunately.
Luckily Amy was able to donate, so the trip wasn’t wasted – although it wasn’t all fun for her either. She didn’t feel so great half-way through and then they didn’t want her to leave “until her color improved.” Amy then had to explain that she is always that color.
The Mets gave out goodies that helped to soothe my disappointment – we each got a pair of tickets to an upcoming game, t-shirts and we were entered into a few raffles (even those of us who failed).
Any way – two things: 1. I need someone to give blood as my proxy, pretty much for the rest of my life 2. Everyone else at the blood drive seemed to get through it pretty smoothly, so I think we’re the exception.
So, please go and donate blood!
Ok – one last confession… the real reason we went was to meet Mr Met, because come on, this is exactly the sort of thing he would be at, miming things and getting photos taken with people. No luck though… I bet he probably can’t give blood either, on account of looking so pale all the time.