Little bites

The very pleasant Nosferatu at the hospital took blood from me a total of nine times yesterday. Nine. I was there for five hours, first waiting half an hour between samples, then an hour between samples. They took the ninth just for good luck.

The staff were unbelievably nice and friendly; so the duration was made more bearable than it might otherwise have been.

I don't know when I'll get the results, but I'm guessing it'll take a week to get around to processing my samples. Maybe they'll tell me my blood type too.

I picked up a leaflet about becoming a blood donor (because, you know, I was giving enough already). After all, if I can have blood taken from bruised arms almost ten times in half as many hours, why not donate some blood as well? Adam called when I got home and I mentioned thinking about finally becoming a blood donor. He was then kind enough to recall his own experiences as a blood donor. These included needles like knitting needles, arms bruised entirely black from bodged needle insertion, passing out, and all manner of other things.

The leaflet is in the bin.

I was pretty hungry after twenty hours of fasting. I think that is the longest I've ever gone without food. I was pretty tired after the whole ordeal. On the way home there was a group of guys running from a Community Warden Officer because he'd caught them drinking in public. For a moment I considered tripping one of them up, but I don't know if the local wardens appreciate vigilante assistance, and I felt I'd been on the receiving end of a particularly brutal Mortal Kombat move. You know, one of the I just lost eighty pints of blood moves.