Giving blood

I've never given blood before - and having worked in Sydney across the road from the blood bank there I've always had this latent sense of guilt at not giving blood. I mean, I've got all the indicators of giving good blood - never been to the UK, no diseases, etc, etc... It's just that I had needles.

In fact, because I once had high cholesterol, and because of heart disease in the family, and because I'm fat, I have a 6-monthly blood test for cholesterol, type-2 diabetes, urates, iron (as there is a family history of haemachromositis and I love my red meat!) and goodness-knows-what else. As an aside, it means that I know that I'm very healthy, because the regular check-ups tell me so! But my veins go AWOL. And I get sqeamish - especiallly when I feel them pulling back on the needle to draw blood and when I look - ouch - there is an empty vial! This is the reason I don't give blood!

But last week Michelle was seeing a specialist at Wollongong and I walked Zoë past the blood bank and thought, "I have seen Zoë's birth without any concerns, perhaps it's time to give blood". So I dropped in and made a booking for this week.

When it came to finding veins, I warned them I'd be difficult. Sure enough, despite the blood bank's promises, it took 25 vampires to find a blood vessel. During that time, Michelle (who came to drive me home in case I felt faint with all the squamishness!) kept looking around the corner to see how I was going. The amount of attention I received was making her a bit concerned!

But at the end of the day, they vampired me and Wendy who goes to Figtree Anglican and is married to a 2-N Glenn kept me talking and before I knew it I had "saved three lives" as the blood bank rhetoric goes.

I survived - not even feeling squeamish. How good is that?

G.