They said they didn't want me...
Steve and I decided to donate blood during the Michigan-OSU Blood Battle a couple of weeks ago. On a Tuesday, we walked over to the Union only to be greeted with a 1.5 hour wait. So, we gave up and opted to return later. Lucky us: Thursday meant the phlebotomists would be at the freshmen dorms next to SPH.
I finished class and we headed over there only to be greeted by the long wait again. But, we were determined! We filled out our forms and waited in the grueling line. Finally, after about 30-45 minutes, we were allowed to enter into the prescreen with the nurses.
"How much do you weigh?" I passed that one! Then, she pricked my finger. Apparently my blood didn't intend on traveling the length of the tubule. She asked if I had ever been anemic, as she proceeded to test my blood in the spinny-thinger to ensure that my specimen was lame. The result: low hematocrit count! She suggested I beef up my iron and come back again some other time. It wasn't so low to be shocking to me; but just low enough that the Red Cross didn't want me.
So, I sat in a corner and waited for Steve, who was still talking to the nurse. Afer about 5-10 minutes, he warily walked toward me and said he couldn't give blood either... Turns out that when you accidentally have a needle stuck in you after it had entered into someone else, they don't want you either! Guess being a med student has its downfalls. Actually, most of being a med student sounds not-so-great to me: no sleep, constant pressure, needles being thrown into you by your patients...
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