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Apr 4

It’s been four years since your last confession…

Posted on Monday, April 4, 2016 in Jobs, Strange and Unusual, Taboo

… is what the bloke behind the counter said when I scanned my blood donation card. He wore a poker face, I could tell he had cracked this joke many times before. I giggled, and ran with it.

“Well, nobody can resist those cocaine parties, I’m a sucker for those!”

He didn’t flinch.

“No, seriously though, I’ve got a few babies under my belt since I last visited.” I meandered and mumbled the last bit, he eyeballed me and sent me onwards, but I could’ve sworn he winked as he did so.

At the next station, after filling out all the paperwork and ticking all the boxes, I met a very bored nurse who insisted on asking the full lot of 50 questions all over again even though I’d just filled in the form 5 minutes before.

“Have you ever been employed in the handling of monkeys?” she asked. (I’d ticked ‘no’.)

“No” I replied, “but I live with a few.” She gave me the BDI.

“If you are a man, have you ever engaged in sexual intercourse with another man?” she asked.

“Hold on,” I retorted, “what are you trying to imply?” She smiled and explained the force of habit, and we had a brief discussion about gender equality. Apparently not everybody knows who Caitlin Jenner is.

I passed the tests and quizzes and signed things a lot, then finally I was told that I was allowed to give blood. I was very relieved about this, as sometimes I suffer from low blood iron levels so tend to be refused frequently. In the case that I may have been refused, the Accidental Terrorist had supplied me with a long shopping list to organise afterwards, and in my opinion, having a nurse stab you with a large gauge needle and sap a whole pint of blood out of you is FAR preferable to going shopping.

They stabbed me in the right arm, and the vein collapsed pretty much straight away. There was much apologising which seems silly as it’s not their fault, my circulatory system often seems to have a mind of its own. They removed the needle, and asked me to put pressure on the bleed with my opposite hand, which I did.

Then they took blood from the other arm which all went swimmingly, as was my head as I walked away and stole several packets of crisps, pencils and bumper stickers on the way out.

Today I woke up to find this image embedded on my inner elbow:crotch

 

The imprint left by my index and middle finger, along with the needle mark itself doesn’t look unlike a person’s crotch and bellybutton.

I have porn on my arm now.

Sigh.

Bring on the comments

  1. Brianf says:

    I much prefer grocery shopping. How can one not enjoy shopping in a big room full of food? I go in there with the attitude that it’s all mine and I get to pick and choose what I want to take home. Do I pick up the rye bread or do I go full on pumpernickle this week? What’s on sale? Do I really need or want that? Coffee’s on sale. Do I get one pound or two? Now don’t get me wrong I am not one who lingers forever in a grocery store. I’m quite efficient. I hit every aisle but I don’t dottle. I know what I’m looking for yet I keep an eye out for something new.
    but back to the topic at hand…
    I hate needles and the vampire-like people who take your blood. I would have freaked out at a vein collapsing. Everytime I looked at my pornographic bruise I would mumble something under my breath not very nice about the whole expierience.

  2. Kirk M says:

    You’re the first and most likely the only person I’ve ever known to take a Phlebotomists bruise and think it’s a crotch and belly button.

    I knew I loved you for a reason. ;)

  3. K8 says:

    What’s not to love about nowadays needles? Every time I see one entering a vein I’m delighted I’m not in the 1800’s looking at a rusty old 12 gauge that’s been used several times before in various dubious circumstances.

  4. K8 says:

    Also, I see the dirty in everything. It’s my convent education, the nuns did this to me.

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