That being said, for the past three years or so, I've always donated blood when the lovely blood donation crew comes to work. And for the most part, it's been a good experience. What's not to love about getting a break from work, while saving some lives at the same time, right? Free cookies too!
Unfortunately for me, I have teeny weeny veins. So much so that I know the only one that they can usually use is the one on my left arm. Every once in awhile someone that just isn't the best at dealing with these little suckers will miss, or try to root around and find the right spot....and BAM, there goes my poor teeny vein. This usually gets a nice big eye roll from me. My way of saying, "DEAR PHLEBOTOMIST, THANK YOU FOR BOMBING THE HELL OUT OF MY VEIN...I'M REALLY GOING TO ENJOY LOOKING LIKE A HEROIN ADDICT FOR THE NEXT WEEK."
This was the scenario last week when I went in to donate blood at work. First off, the girl just looked like she didn't take much pride in what she was doing...greeeatttt. She bombed my vein and had the gall to say, "Oops!" What the fuck, seriously?! I think the right reaction would be, "I'm sorry." Basically, she didn't get the needle in right, so I wasn't bleeding fast enough, and said that she wanted to try the other arm. I had already told her it was a bad idea, but decided to be a good sport and give it a whirl. So, I get up to turn around on the little table, and what do I see? A NICE LITTLE POOL OF BLOOD ON THE TABLE TRICKLING DOWN TO WHERE I WAS SITTING. That's right, folks....dumb blood girl somehow got my own blood all over me.
The only good part was that at least it was MY blood. Bad news was that it was all over my pants. Now not only did I look like a heroin addict, but with blood everywhere I looked like a damn murderer! And go figure, the girl didn't even tell me she was sorry. "Oops!" doesn't cut it, bitch. Especially not when you've gotten MY blood all over MY most expensive pair of jeans.
At least her little team-lead person had some sense. She apologized for said idiot-girl and gave me the number to their help line, informing me that should I need to have my jeans laundered, they would pick up the tab.
I headed back to my desk and quickly asked my boss if I could work the rest of the day from home. I mean, face it...I was a fucking walking biohazard.
Here comes the even better part...I had taken the bus to work, so I was taking the bus home. I was praying for the bus to be fairly empty, in hopes that the folks inside wouldn't think that I went and knifed someone! I lucked out on that part...no weird looks from what I could tell.
I finally made it home, threw the jeans in the wash, and settled on the couch with my laptop for the rest of the afternoon. Luckily, the stains didn't set in, and my jeans were safe.
To the final point....will I donate blood again? Probably. The folks that need it shouldn't be adversely affected by the occurrence above...it's not their fault this chick was such a slacker. I CAN say that I will probably be a little hyper-vigilant about who's doing what to my frickin arms though!
Song of the day: "Good Girls Go Bad" Cobra Starship (cause it goes with the title of this post...I should honestly rewrite the song to fit this crazy shit)
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