Yick. How much do I hate needles? Let me count the ways. Today at work we are having one of our bi-annual blood drives and as usual, I am ready to pass out from the meer suggestion of having a needle stuck in my arm. Ewwwww – I’m getting lightheaded right now just thinking about it.
Everyone at work knows about my aversion to being prodded and poked with some steely gray stick and believe me, they have lots of fun extorting that fact. On one special occasion, my dear friend and co-worker buddy I’ve known for years, Ryan, left a huge printout of a hypodermic needle on my desk with blood dripping from it. That was so sweet of him. Later, as he was attending to his black eye, he admitted that it was probably not so funny. And still other co-workers will walk by me with pens or pencils and gently “stab” me in the arm to see me jump a mile in the air. They are starting to learn I fight back, however, so they are moving out of the way more quickly now to avoid my swinging fists.
But if I weren’t so sensitive to loss of blood (I can feel the color draining from my face as I type this), I would be all over donating it to the American Red Cross. There is always a great need for those who can and are willing to give and the coolest part is that you help save someone else’s life by doing it. Darn it – I really wish I weren’t such a wimp on this! Maybe I could sit there, be distracted enough while they tell me to squeeze a ball…nooooooo – there goes the blackness again…sigh.
p.s. while looking for a pic to post, I unfortunately searched in my stock photography for “giving blood”; yeah, I just about hit my head on my desk from what I saw…