Sacrifices

Shaman: The McMichael Gallery, Keinberg, Ontario, 25 August 2023

Once I was retired and looking for something to do, I decided I would become a blood donor. Most of my adult life I'd avoided it because I'd fainted a time or two after giving up a few vials for blood tests. But, that was then, I thought. It didn't kill me, so it must have just made me stronger.

I have donated twice since I made the decision, and felt fine afterward each time. My third appointment was just this past week. I go to the nice old Confederation style red stone building on College Street west of Bay. 

After I'd gone through screening, I was approached by “Jill” … her real name… to join her in the ritual bloodletting. I sat in the comfy lounge chair and told her I preferred she drain me from the vein in my left arm. I also asked her to use iodine to disinfect the site of the puncture wound. 

“The other stuff,” I explained, “gives me a rash.” 

That seemed to deeply discombobulate Jill, who set about looking for things all over the place. This was very different from the last time, when the person who extracted my blood was coolly in control and clearly knew what she was doing. Jill clearly did not. 

This caused me some concern. I asked, half joking, half with trepidation, “Is this your first day?” 

Jill said, as she continued to fretfully look for things, that she was a competent nurse with 20 years’ experience, she just hadn’t done a lot of this sort of thing recently. As she spoke, no less than three other nurses took up positions in the near periphery of my chaise lounge and sought, as they kept a wary eye on her, to distract me from what Jill was doing. 

Jill finally found the iodine, sterilized the site, stabbed me with the needle, and having gotten the hard part out of the way, seemed to relax a bit. I did not relax. The hovering nurses were talking to me, offering me things to eat and drink, showing me a card with exercises to do if I started feeling faint, all while Jill rambled on about how some people avoided donating blood because they were afraid of fainting.

 

And as if on cue, I started to faint. 

 

The hovering nurses leapt into action, elevating my feet, applying cold compresses, fanning me, putting a plastic bag on my chest in case I barfed and encouraging me to do those exercises they had just shown me. Jill promised to abort the extraction that very moment but was slow enough that I’d pumped out the whole donation by the time she had the needle out of me. I was soon well enough to leave but felt a bit woozy for the rest of the day. 

 

Like I said, that was my third blood donation since I retired. There will be a fourth. Just so long as Jill’s not the one with the needle. 

Kitchen Reno Update

We made our decision about a contractor (the one who promised, and delivered, a highly detailed quote), paid the deposit and have a start date of October 16. Now we're shopping for appliances, finishes, flooring, fixtures and a fan that hangs from the ceiling. 

It's exciting and horrible all at the same time.

Thanks for reading! Happy Labour Day!

Karen

Me giving blood... except
my colour was more like the photo
at the start of the blog.