05 March 2008

pin pricks, needle sticks

Someday, when I'm not still suffering from Post-Traumatic Caucus Disorder, I'll explain how I managed to get myself elected as a precinct chair when all I wanted to do was sit back and watch democracy in action. However, I'm entirely too stressed out about my new duties to discuss anything remotely resembling the Texas Democratic Primary. So instead I'm going to write about something that is totally soothing and a great stress reliever for me: giving blood.

No, it's totally true! I love to give blood. Where else outside of kindergarten can you just randomly lay down for twenty minutes while squeezing a stress ball and then get rewarded with cookies and juice? It's basically like kindergarten all over again, except with a large needle stuck in your vein, draining your life source.

Plus, there's just all that blood neatly filling up those cute plastic bags. I feel like the inspiring guest star of a hit hospital drama every time I look down at the blood filling the little bag. Like, my character would probably be named Cassandra, or some other painfully obvious name, and I'd tell the handsome surgeon that he should make a play for the shy but beautiful nurse before it's TOO LATE, and he ends up sad and alone in a hospital bed dying from the avian flu and/or a large injury caused by accidentally falling on top of a long piece of re bar. And the entire hospital would be warmed by my presence, and would mourn my passing, the death of an old woman they'd never before met and only treated for a few hours, and then they'd learn to embrace life and celebrate over beers at the local bar, which is always just across the street. I don't know about you guys, but I've never been to a hospital that's just across the street from a bar. If I knew of one, I'd totally go there, cause I bet that's where the phlebotomists hang out.

I used to want to be a phlebotomist in college. It seemed like the perfect job; you got to wear a lab coat with a sassy button that claimed people should not mess with you cause you had a needle, and there are all those stickers, plus you get to know about the sexual deviancy of everyone you meet! And let's not forget the free cookies and juice! Also, just the name alone is fun. PHLEBOTOMY. Doesn't that sound fun? Plus, I just really like blood. Not in a gross, sexual way or a weird, Dexter Morgan way (although you have to admit, if all serial killers were as awesome as Dex, this world would be so much more fun and hot), but I just like looking at it. It's always so deep and rich looking, like really cool paint, and the way it fl- I'll stop now. I don't want to end up being locked in the loony bin.

Anyway, my phlebotomy dreams were dashed when I found out that they don't make that much money. There's only so far free cookies and the power to poke people can stretch.

But I still maintain that giving blood is pretty awesome. You get to help save a life, you get to lay down on a cot for no reason at all in the middle of the day, and you get free cookies and juice. Plus, if you're lucky, someone else in the blood center will get lightheaded and dizzy from giving blood, and sometimes they're bigger/stronger than you, and you get to feel quietly smug that you're a super human for whom a pint of blood is merely a drop in the bucket. I am totally that superhuman. Suck on it, lesser mortals.

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