Have You Ever . . . Even Once?

I don't know when or how I first stumbled upon Murr's blog, but I'm awfully happy that I did.  She's got a wry (this may be the first time I've ever used that word [and it feels good]) tone that I thoroughly enjoy.  Most recently she wrote about giving blood and that made me thing about my years of blood donation.

I gave for a good long time, twice a year usually, from the time I first realized I was eligible.  I just thought it was an important thing to do.  Because I've always had low blood pressure and rolling veins, it wasn't always an easy thing to do.  But that didn't stop me.

Until one night in May.

I went down to the church and gave my blood and skimped a bit on the juice and pretzel table because I needed to get home.  It was the night of Sherry's junior prom and because we had excellent rhododendrons, the crowd was gathering at our place for pre-prom photos.  I sure wish I had a digital version of one of them because those kids did look good.  So I hurried home and we hurried about getting things ready and then standing around for this pose and that pose and kibitzing with the other parents who had come over for the photo op.  And it was warm.  At last they were all in their cars and off for a lovely evening.  The parents dispersed and Joe and I headed down to the pub for our dinner.

It was crowded and we couldn't get a table right away, so we were standing at the bar.  And it all caught up to me.  And I said, "I don't feel right."  And down I went.  I passed out.  In a bar.

And that's the last time I gave blood.

Hey -- go read Murr's post, won't you?  It's better than mine.  And give blood.  If you can.  And don't skimp on the pretzels and juice.  Trust me.

Nancy, NP