This weekend marathon has been donating blood, this time under the inspiring motto "I ran the sang / Blood Runs." As in previous occasion, I signed into the website to reserve space and time.
Throughout the week I refrained from taking aspirin for a headache or flu for me cold budding, and that is cause for rejection by the medical staff for the admission of donors.
The latest donation was just three months ago, the minimum time set for me to return to puncture the vein, and in the last six months I have visited Libya, a country that does not require as prophylaxis a priori should not pose any problem.
not meet any of the other 45 conditions that could exclude me as a donor, among which include having visited the dentist within the past two weeks, being a drug addict, selling my body to change of money or have gone to Thailand to fornicate like crazy.
Total, which came to the Hospital de Sant Pau, ask a security guard by the bloody flag and get to the site. I do not know if it's the fact that the marathon is an extraordinary event and expected to attend sports celebrities and media, but I sense that the blood bank staff (women sixties with black rimmed glasses and dyed blonde) is something altered.
After confirming that I am pointed in the list , the first thing they ask me what size T is spending.
-Yo creo que a ti la L te va bien.
-Bueno, depende del fabricante. A veces es la L y a veces la XL. La tendría que ver, en todo caso.
-Ummm... es que no las podemos enseñar mucho porque a la gente que viene a donar y no está en la lista no se les da camiseta.
Y como si se tratara de un maletín con cocaína, de debajo del mostrador saca un sobre blanco tamaño DINA3, lo abre y me enseña discretamente el género.
-yeahhhh, this is the L and sure you do well.
Well, it's better not to argue with someone who is as old as my mother and probably its very low tolerance to take the opposite. Also I did not come for the shirt, so if I do well and it enchufaré someone.
stick with my donor card and invited me to sit in a row skay sofas that have have known better times. When my ass is sinking, almost touching the ground, reaching all comfortable position in which almost touch my kneecaps lobes ears. Discreetly, slid my buttocks to the seat beside him, praying for other than death trap.
One of the nurses goes ahead and ask me where my donor card.
"You're out of you.
-Ah.
And gives me again.
When the doctor comes out and makes me into his office. Asks me if I'm okay, if I had any previous problem, how weight, etc.. all of string and uninteresting, like when you read your rights.
I take the tension with a ultratecnológico device that does it all alone. The only but is that the pileup has a tendency to fantasize about the results, so the doctor has to make me stress again with a traditional blood pressure.
When I asked if I traveled out of Europe lately, I say yes, I've been in Libya in North Africa.
browlift.
- What did you have to vaccinate?
-No.
- some insect stung you?
"Yes, a mosquito bit me here in my hand. Well, I do not know if it was a mosquito or not but I left this Marquita see?
raised eyebrow and laughed nervously.
- And when you were?
"At Christmas.
stands up, picks up a book you have to see the dangers and warnings for all countries and concludes:
-No data.
So get what I consider the worst point in the process of giving blood. Believe me or not, that's when you prick your finger to test the sedimentation.
It's like putting your hand in a mousetrap knowing with absolute certainty that they will get you and CLAC! prick kid you. Instead, when you introduce the syringe into his arm around is more sedate, you lie belly up, you prepare, you are told to breathe deeply, you rub a lot of times to sterilize the skin ... This does not. Trephining the finger you sitting in an office chair, the hard way, without preliminary or anything. CLAC! and celebration.
To make matters worse, the piercing is in a part of your body which then spends all day in contact with lots of things and the small wound at the end upset.
But why give him so many twists to this? you may ask. Because right after to get me a drop of blood by the method of the mousetrap, the doctor comes and asks me
-right but what Christmas day back from your trip?
-On January 3 Why?
"Oh, is that then you can not give blood. There's the Nile , and has to spend a period of one month to make the donation. It's something I always forget.
"But the Nile is in Egypt and I have been in Libya ...
-Ya, ya, it does not matter. Anyone who has traveled outside of Europe and Belarus believe, has to spend a month in quarantine. But he hopes to confirm it.
And to give greater credibility to the subject exits the office and re-enter.
"Yes, yes, confirmed: you can not give blood today, I'm sorry. Do you have already given the shirt?
Of course, the shirt will go directly to the category of pajama shirt. And the chick that could have played herself in English before Nile virus remember that in the face.
Goodnight.
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