It's been a really long time since the last posting. We weren't really sure if there would ever be any more once we closed up shop so to speak. But there always seems to be random stories to share, and after chatting in the past with Brooke & Monica, and most recently with Monica again, it seems that some of them are just meant to be posted on here.
It's Pam. And as much as I can say that I will try my best to adhere to Greek God's (a reader of ours) request for " and tell Pam enough with the novels!" I can't promise much for this one in particular. Some of the stories just have so many components that it's tricky to leave any of it out. I'm a gabber. Get that from my mother's side....
SOS-esque activities always find an occaisional way of creating awkward situations in our lives now and then, and you never know when they're going to strike. A daytime run-in waiting for the TTC, a co-worker saying that they saw you last night and you realized that they're talking about when you were $hit-faced drunk and making out with brown George Clooney while stumbling down the sidewalk, early morning walks of shame, etc. Awkwardness knows no boundaries, even when attempting to do something charitable to help others.
I had been wanting to start donating blood again for quite some time and finally stopped putting it off. It was scheduled for my lunch hour, so a friend of mine from work came with me to donate too. We were excited! We were nervous! We were feeling good and on our way over she kept thanking me for getting her involved. Yep, I was feeling pret-ty proud of myself. The office where we had our donation was small and open concept, professional yet efficient. We whizzed through the first portion of testing our iron and filling out the initial questionnaire no problem. What's that you say? My iron levels are exceptional? Yep dragging knuckles across my shoulder I've been slamming back water and eating really healthy the past two days. This ain't my first time schweethawt. Giving my friend who was still waiting to be called a grin and a thumbs-up, I waltzed into the private office to have my one on one with the nurse where she checks your arms for track marks, and proceeds to fire off about 15 yes or no answered question to you at rapid speed. Such as:
*Heavy Russian accent* Are you feeling well today? Yep.
Are you pregnant? Nope.
Have you taken any medication besides vitamins or birth control in the past 3 days? Nope.
Have you ever spent more than 3 consecutive years in the Republic of Congo from 1973 to 1985? No.
Have you ever injected illegal drugs? No.
Have you ever had sex for money or illegal drugs? No.
Have you ever had sex with a man who's had sex with a man even once? No.
Have you ever had sex with someone whose sexual history you didn't know? (pause) Yes.
Have you ever had... wait, yes??? You've had sex with someone whose sexual history you didn't know? Yes.
Were you dating them? Uh, ummm. (Does this question even matter, why are you asking me this?!)
How long ago was this? Uh this Summer. A couple months ago...?
So what exact date? (pulls out a calendar, flops it down) (I gulp) Around labour day-ish?
She continues to stare at me shocked that this was my answer. Clearly people lie on this part. She looks like she doesn't know what to do. I begin to ramble. Panic. Feel like a bad person. Well it was a really, really bad date. It was only once. Only once! I was... nervous so I was drinking.
She flips through a binder looking up codes. She scrawls across my big sheet in red pen some numbers. She tells me I can't donate for 6 months and looks at me sympathetically and tells me thank you, have a nice day and points to the door. I pick up my hefty little donation bundle and scramble to get my all my stuff quickly as to not waste any more of her time. Hand on door I turn around But wait! My friend is out there and I need to think of a reason why I'm not donating today! She'll wonder why! We're friends but I just feel weird telling her that's the reason. Tears in my eyes at this point. What can I say??
She nods her head and flipping through the binder lists a number of medications for skin issues that I can say I have taken. Cool, she gets it. Um, no I don't want to say skin issues, she may think weird rashes.
She then asks me if she knows me well enough to know if I have travelled to this and that far off, highly exotic country. I think stuff like trips has a way of coming out and I would look like a big liar.
We settle on just saying it's because of some medication that I took and leave it at that. She sees the deer in the headlights look I have and gives me some reassurance, saying in her thick accent and shaking her head not to worry, that sex is good, everbody have sex, so you not worry. And out I go.
To be greeted by a nurse. Right this way! The door is facing an open area where the four donation chairs are all right there, and they are full. They've got nothing better to look at our do in a silent room, so they're reclining and they're staring. One of them is my friend already getting settled and preparing to donate. Uh I won't be giving blood today I whisper. She can't hear me, and I have to repeat it. People are looking. My friend smiles and looks confused. I sit in the chair where I am told I can wait for her, in full view of the doners while I am on my own, approached by about another four nurses over the next 15 minutes who instruct me Alright sweetie come with me, we'll get you set up where as I have to refuse every time and say that I am waitng for a friend. They see my the bandaid on my finger, that I've been turned away. In the mean time, I am texting Monica telling her that I am so humiliated at this moment and she replies back that she is laughing. I know it's funny, but I just wanted to melt away into the walls and not be on full display as the donation-reject for everyone there that day. I wanted to laugh and cry with embarrassment at the same time. Emotional, hello!
I sit with my recovering friend while she crushes back her juice box and packet of Dad's cookies, making small talk, the giant elephant in the room of why I didn't donate lingering. I told her non-chalantly once we got outside that it was because of medication I recently took, and left it at that. So I kinda have an air of mystery mixed with my do-gooding intentions... so I don't look like a druggie, I look a little saintly. Not bad.
Clearly not everyone can say that they know people's history. This is usually unlikely. Different people just choose to answer that question either honestly or dishonestly (hell, I know my friend and clearly she lied!!) Moral of the story: Go to these kind of things ALONE!!!!! And grab a handful of Peak Freen's on your way out. The lady fetching the juice boxes is too busy reader the flyers to notice.
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