All my life I remember my dad donating blood. He did it often without much thought. I've never donated for one reason or another but, I got a call on Friday from a friend and asked if I would donate. For the first time, I didn't have an excuse so I mustered all my nerve and said I would do it.
I fretted all day Friday and much of the morning Saturday, but I started getting excited (well maybe not excited, but happy) about the prospect of helping someone else by giving my blood.
So I had Jason come with me to the mobile blood donating bus to give me moral support. Jason can't donate because he lived in England for more than three months back in the early 90's (mission service you know), and he might have mad cow disease :0
After about 30 minutes of filling out papers, having a mini physical, they laid me down in the reclining seat and put the band on my arm to find the vein. After searching on both arms, the guy was successful in finding a vein on my right arm. BUT, he said it was too small, the same size as the needle, so he couldn't do it. I've always known that I have small veins but I didn't know that would disqualify me.
So there you have it. I worried and stewed over nothing. I don't know if I can make my veins grow, but I'm thinking that donating blood isn't in my near future. As scared as I was, I do feel disappointed. Bummer.
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