Blood Letting

Since my last post, there hasn't been a whole lot going on but I'll fill ya in on what excitement there has been. Fasten your seatbelts, it's about to get rowdy-rowdy in heruh.

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Set Back by a Pint

Monday evening I went in for my bi-monthly ritual blood-letting. They re-confirmed that I have not since 1977 been given money to live in Europe (for time adding up to 3 months) with anyone infected with Tuberculosis as a result of living in Africa, sharing needles for drugs not prescribed by a doctor while receiving a tattoo and/or body piercing.

The three people ahead of me in line were sent packing, so I started to worry. I could tell when I came in that they had low iron, but who am I to tell someone not to donate? As it turned out my iron was perfect, and if my lifestyle is only good for one thing, that one thing is giving my blood to others.

As usual, the nurses on staff were tired when I got there. Now don't get me wrong, they were professional, friendly, accurate and efficient. On paper this was the A-Team of blood-letters. But I could tell they were not in the mood for small talk after a full day of agreeing with people about the weather, how busy they were that day, how good those cookies smell (the Otis Spunkmeyer fresh made joints), how hard it must be to resist them, and so on. Nope, these ladies (yeah, they were all women) got to business without the chit-chat.

My one complaint is that they had the newbie "take me down", meaning get the test samples, crimp the tubes, remove the needle and so on. While she was a little shaky on the order of operations what I found the most unnerving was the way she wiggled the needle around during the whole process. I thought for sure it was going to bust out of my arm sideways spraying blood everywhere and leaving them no choice but to burn the building down and amputate my right arm on the spot. Fortunately I made it out alright, had my snacks and went about my business.

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Oops, This is the Setback

Okay, so that wasn't the part about being set back. Last night I headed out to do my hill repeats (that means run up and down a hill 8-10 times) and the first thing I noticed was that I had NO OOMPH in my body. A side effect of donating blood is that it reduces the ability of the remaining blood to deliver oxygen. If you've ever run any distance, you probably understand the importance of oxygen.

So there I was running up the hill for the first time, about half the effort that I usually put forth and my legs just wouldn't respond. My breathing was LABORED and my heart rate was approaching 100%. It was a strange feeling to know in my head that I could go faster, but my legs would not do what my head was telling them to do. If I really pushed it just got worse until I felt like I would puke at the top of the hill.

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Okay, I realize this post is about a week old and rotting in my Draft Box, so I'l end it here and start another for today.


Over and Out,
Old Coot