This time I was turned away from donating platelets. I am not too disappointed, but it's frustrating to block out the time, get to the center, wait, be pricked and then they say I'm ineligible. Usually it's been anemic/low blood iron (a couple times when donating in Maryland), but this time it was my pulse.
Her first count was 110, too high. Then she had me sit for probably 10 minutes and took it again. (I told her it wouldn't change ... as I wasn't winded and actually felt just fine/calm/not nervous.) She didn't tell me what the second count was, but said it would beat really fast and then go vague, like she couldn't feel it for a bit before it was racing again. She thought maybe I was holding my breath. Maybe I was, but not intentionally, and after she told me that she said I couldn't donate (instead of taking my pulse while I paid attention to how I was breathing). She also didn't take into account that she had me pull my right arm across my body and that she was pressing it into the side of the desk so hard it made an indention in my skin. Whatevs.
I feel fine and actually suspect it had something to do with the 1/2 coffee I drank with a bagel on the way to the center. I have been intaking far less caffeine than normal for me, mostly for personal plumbing reasons, but I imagine the caffeine impacted my heart rate. I didn't offer up that explanation and just packed up and left. Blech.
It took me over an hour to get home because instead of walking to the subway I took the closer bus, which meandered and had to go around a street festival. Plus it's raining, which makes everything worse.
On the bus I had time to think ... and think ... and think. I have been listening to Brad Paisley on my iPod lately -- some of his songs are so incredible upbeat (The World, Alcohol) and others are so very sad/sentimental (When I Get Where I'm Going, Then, Oh Yeah You're Gone). So that added to the reflective quality of the ride.
In the sermon (hands down the best one so far from this new pastor), she challenged us to always pray for people we meet and see -- to pray for the city as a whole and all its people. I really like that and find that I especially pray for young women crying. The bus ride was a good time for saying those prayers surrounded by all kinds of people.
I've got crocheting to do and DVR'ed TV to watch. The sermon also got me thinking about my (hermit) lifestyle ... but this afternoon I'm going to let myself enjoy it.
Progressive Christian wife, mama, writer, editor & crocheter blogging from Baton Rouge
Blood Donation Saga Continues
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