so. i scheduled to go in today. curse! myself for ever giving them my number. i don't mind donating. donating blood is a fabulous and awesome thing to do...it's the freakin' phone calls...the follow-up calls... but, and i can't blame them, reserves are very very low....so...off i went after running a 13 miler yesterday, running 4 x 400 meter 5k paced sprints this morning and then getting 2 loads of laundry done all before 10am. i was pretty surprised i managed the sprints. i'm not too sore today.
so, i show up early for my blood donating appointment and lo and behold, i find myself surrounded by tie-dyed folk: old and young, male and female, dad's with their babies, middle-aged and gray haired, some sporting beer guts, others that are high school young, scrubby clean and clear-skinned, peasant skirted and smelling like patchouli.
i was given the proper forms and herded into an area with empty seats. everyone seemed to be standing in line though, noone was sitting. someone famous was present and signing autographs. the only thing that caught my attention was a young scruffy looking guy wearing a radiohead t-shirt. then i noticed people holding posters and flyers.
i was handed a number, called, tested, spent some time joking with the tech and felt my heart sink when i saw the drop of blood sink. i was in. i'd have to wait for at least an hour to donate. like i said it was jammed packed.
finally after fidgeting in my seat, opening and closing my running book, trying to figure out who the famous person was, and hoping i'd get the cot at the back of the room, my name is called.
1. i had to lay on the front cot in front of 4 rows of seated waiting blood donors.
2. i'm informed that the famous person is Grateful Dead bassist Phil Lesh.
3. on his way out, after finishing signing autographs, he makes the rounds to each cot.
4. EVERYONE had something for him to sign. everyone except me. HA! so, he patted my free arm and thanked me for showing up to donate.
franny says: "No problem, glad to do it"
franny thinks: "I don't know who you are and it's ashame that a true fan isn't laying in my place".
i have to laugh.
~~~
okay. so i head downtown to get some tokens and some more liquids and something to munch on. i then head to the busstop and get on my bus and by the 8th stop, right before we get onto the expressway, i begin to feel REALLY FREAKIN' SICK.
i could feel the blood leave my face and my mouth get a really sweetly sick feeling in it. i debate asking the driver to let me off. STUPIDLY, i stay on the bus. so, my head is down between my knees and the sweat is forming a puddle on the floor. the cuffs of my long sleeved shirt are drenched. i debate calling 911. i've never felt this horrible in my life. oddly, Not One Damned person on the bus, who can see me, asks if i'm okay. i think to myself that i'll just calm down and talk myself through this. thank GOD there was no traffic on the schuykill. i have visions of me in an ambulance...
stupidity aside, my mental toughness sometimes amazes me...i talked myself out of throwing up, passing out, having a diarheal episode, i sat the entire time with my head between my legs grasping a bottle of water. breathing through cramps... my stop comes up, and finally some elderly gentleman says to me that he was going to wake me up so that i wouldn't miss my stop, i told him i wasn't sleeping and that i felt very ill...anyhow, i get off the bus and almost lay out on the grass at the bus stop. i, instead, sit on a small ledge and put my head between my legs. i still felt dizzy but a little bit better than before. i walked home slowly, fed the cats, and headed for the couch.
caught the evening news and saw a story about Phil Lesh at the Red Cross Blood Donating campaign...my lips managed a feeble smile. The Dead are playing tonight at the Tweeter Center...
needless to say:
1. i won't be donating blood until after DECEMBER!
2. i will be getting to bed REALLY EARLY tonight.
3. tomorrow will be a rest day, no running or gym time
4. i promise, if i still feel sick, i will head to the doctor.