Well, it's still
April 1st on my neck of the woods, but this is what came up, so I think I'll just move forward to tomorrow.
Time waits for no one!
It all started a few months ago. I wrote a
daylog about my first
blood donation. This spawned from my decision to start helping more, in a general sort of way. I'm pretty healthy, so it's the least I could do. It wasn't nearly as bad as I though, so that was good.
My second blood donation was not as smooth as my first. I had taken
prescribed medication within the previous 4 weeks and couldn't remember the name of it, so I was refused as a donor. I went back after the 4 week period and everything was cool... except for the girl who didn't know her
phlebotomy very well. But after quite a while, and little added discomfort, I was on my way.
They always run through a few things briefly when you donate about if you get sick within the next few days and what-not, but I usually pay about as much
attention to them as I do
flight attendants at the beginning of a
commercial flight. "What's that...
seat belt,
oxygen mask,
emergency exits.
Roger." After about 2 days, I started to get a soar
throat and swollen glands. I tried to remember what they told me about getting sick, but since
I wasn't really listening to them in the first place, that memory had slipped away. So I called the donation center and told them the situation, and they told me to call someone
800 number. I finally got ahold of
someone, and they ended up
asking me a bunch of questions about who I was and what was wrong, so I explained and they said they'd take care of it.
about 2 weeks later
I came quietly home
this evening, so as not to wake my roommates daughter, Jade, sleeping in the living room, and made my way into the kitchen to listened to the messages on the answering machine. I skipped past the leftover messages that I lazily have yet to delete, on to
message number three, the new one.
This message is for Nicholas.
Could you please call Mercy Medical Center.
We have some questions to ask you about you and your donating.
Our number is ###-####.
Now, I know reading this just makes you think that they want to question me about my sickness that I reported, like a responsible blood donor. But when the blood donation center needs to talk to you, it can't be good...
plain and simple. The first thing that popped into my mind was all the possible ways that I could have contracted
AIDS, thought there aren't many, of which I am proud to report... but there are a couple. Then I started to wonder if my
THC levels could have cought their attention while more closely examining my blood. Whatever it is, it can be a little frightening to get that kind of call. I calmed down a little bit, but I have to wait until
tomorrow to contact them.
I hate waiting for shit like this.
Update: They wanted to know if the problems I was having were cleared up or if they are chronic. WHEW!