Liking Bandaids
Is it weird to enjoy wearing bandaids?
I don't know why, but whenever I have an excuse to wear a bandaid, I actually kind of look forward to it. Maybe I like showing off the fact that I've been wounded, as if a bandaid is some kind of status symbol, like a scar but a lot less awesome. Maybe I'm fascinated by the concept of the body's ability to be damaged and heal itself. Maybe it's a holdover from the infantile awareness that being hurt gets you attention.
(Come on, admit it: before you broke a bone for a first time, you sometimes imagined how cool it would be to wear a cast, and have all your friends sign it.)
Whatever the reason is, I'm mildly embarrassed to admit my fascination with wearing bandaids. When I give blood or accidentally cut myself, I like to keep the bandaids on longer than I know is necessary, and once they're off I keep checking out the damaged area just in case I might need to put a new one on again.
I can't believe I'm the only one like this. Come on, all my bandaid lovers! Show me some solidarity! Anyone...?
P.S. I like to accompany my blog posts with photos I've taken myself, but I already took the blood donation bandaid from yesterday off, and I didn't think a picture of a tiny little red spot on my arm would be very interesting, so you get a generic image from the internet instead.
Blood and Shoes
Today I gave blood and bought new shoes.
This was my third time donating blood. It went as smoothly as the other times. No lightheadedness or anything, and I pumped the bag full in about five minutes, so I'm pretty much a blood-giving machine. Maybe next time I'll tell them to suck the stuff from both arms at once. There's plenty in there for everyone!
The only thing that went any differently was that after I sat down to eat some cookies (not because I felt like I needed them, but because Oreos are delicious), I looked down at my arm and the gauze was all red, because I was still bleeding. So I showed a nurse, and she yelled "Nine!" which I guess is some kind of code for "We've got a bleeder!" Another nurse brought more gauze and an icepack to slow the bleeding, and it stopped after a minute or two. So I ate some more cookies (Larissa helped feed me while I was holding the ice; thanks, dear), and then we went back to Larissa's place for dinner (which was leftovers from The Keg, where we'd gone the night before to use a gift card that my sister gave us because I helped her with some renovation stuff a while ago).
Oh yeah, Larissa was at the clinic, too. But she wasn't allowed to give blood because she was in Paraguay six months ago, and that's a malaria risk, apparently. Next time...
The other thing I did, as I mentioned, was buy new shoes. It's probably been two years since I bought shoes. I take good care of my shoes by tying and untying them every time I put them on, so I don't have to jam my feet in and squish the heel and stuff. The shoes I'm replacing are still fine, really, but they're dirty and ugly at this point, even if their structural integrity is basically intact.
The new ones I got are the same brand and basically the same style, with slightly different colours. I think they were a bit cheaper than my last ones, too, so we'll see if I notice any quality difference. They were on clearance, so they may be just as good quality, really.
Also, there were chocolate cinnamon buns at Bible Study. Mmm. Great way to end a good day.
Giving Blood
I'm giving blood. Like right now. Seriously. As this gets posted, blood is running out of my arm and into a bag.
And I'm not even crying.
This is my second time. I should do it more, but a combination of laziness and irrationality generally conspire to keep my hemoglobin safe at home. I'm only here this time because my sister is starting a new running clinic to train for a half-marathon or some other form of craziness, and she asked me if I wanted to take her time slot.
But I'm glad I'm here.
Have you ever given blood? Do you do it often?
P.S. Lookit my arm!





