April 16, 2012
Final Proof that We’ve Gone Nuts
By David E. Petzal
This has absolutely nothing to do with guns, or shooting, but since many of you share a similar world view, I thought you’d be interested. For roughly 30 years, I’ve been a more or less regular blood donor. It’s one of the worthwhile things you can do, and I figure if they want my blood, they must really need it.
Hitherto, all my bleeding has been done for the New York Blood Center, which is state-run. But there was a drive nearby run by the Red Cross, so I figured I might as well exsanguinate for them. It was held at a high school gym, which was packed with kids who were donating, and the atmosphere was fouled by s***y music being played at deafening volume, which apparently does not bother the kids.
When you donate blood, you go through an interview on your health history, and then you get to bleed. I was almost done with the interview when the young vampire girl asked me if I was pregnant.
For a moment I thought my hearing aids had been shorted out by the s****y music.
“What did you just say?,” I asked her.
“Are you pregnant?,” she said.
I waited for her to smile and let me in on the joke. She did not smile. She sat there patiently with my form and her pencil, waiting to enter whether I was pregnant or not.
Slipping into shock, I said that I was not, and doddered off to let a needle-wielding vampire suck a pint of my blood.
As the last drop was coaxed into the plastic bag, I asked the needle vampire why I had been asked if I was with child, despite the very high odds against it.
“The Food and Drug Administration has control over these donations,” she said. “They don’t tell the New York Blood Center what to do. They give us a list of questions we have to ask, and can’t ask.”
I said I understood, and shuffled off to grow some more blood. I can hardly wait for the questions I’ll get next time.