Ouch — My arm really hurts. I donated blood this afternoon and for some reason, my right arm is really sore. If I donate one more time, I get a paid day off.
I learned how they determine your red blood percentage. That was pretty cool. The phlebotomist pricked my finger and sucked the blood into that little tube. While she was taking my blood pressure, she put my little tube into a centrifuge where the blood cells and plasma were separated. She pulled the tube from the centrifuge and showed me how my blood was separated. Pretty cool. Then she measured my blood cell to plasma ratio. I scored a 44%. You have to have at least 38% to donate.
While pumping my body wine into a bag , Mindi came and talked to me. I noticed a girl in a chair next to me. She was laying next to all kinds of cool machines. I asked Mindi what was going on over there. She told me that that girl was donating platelets – then she looked at me and did the ol’ forefinger, middle finger and thumb hand motion. You know – the one that indicates cash money. “So you stick me, give me a Little Debbie, some colored sugar water and send me on my way while this chick is sitting over there getting paid?!?!”
Mindi told me if I donate one more time, she’ll move me over to platelet donation and I can milk the cash cow too. Betty, the lady who always takes my blood, frowned and said: “Then we’ll be losing one of our regular donors!” I guess platelets go somewhere else… I don’t know. Mindi, after you read this, why don’t you comment and explain. I’ll probably just stick to plain old whole blood donations if that’s what’s needed.
I don’t need any sort of cash incentive to help out. I’d rather help out by donating what they need the most. Besides, having a friend in the Blood Center has its rewards. Right as I walk into their office, I get pinned with ribbons and buttons and stickers. I get a donor t-shirt thrown over my shoulder and get to keep the little squishy thing they give me to squeeze while I donate. I left today and looked like a kindergartener on his way home from school – strutting through the hospital, adorned with my hero sticker on my shirt, pin on my lapel, donor shirt in one hand, squishy squeezy thing in the other hand, Kool Aid mustache and Moon Pie stuck to my face. All I needed was a finger painting and a mobile made out of popsicle sticks and elbow macaroni.