Back in my dancing days, when I was a skinny stick, I thought I would be civic-minded and give blood. I entered the Bloodmobile in Oakland and offered up my veins. The nurse took one look at me and asked me how much I weighed. A hundred pounds I said. She looked at me with knitted brow, cocked her head to one side, and said, "I'm sorry sweetheart, you need all the blood you can get."
Rejected by the Bloodmobile.
Fast forward 10 years and 20 pounds...picture me staring down the Bloodbus in the WalMart parking lot at 10 am this morning.
Knowing that I'm now robust enough to donate I figure I would relive my civic-mindedness and offer up the veins once more. I trot confidently over to the bus before shopping, poke my head in and state proudly, "I'd like to donate please." All smiles, the nurses lead me to the back of the bus and I sit for the blood letting. After I say that this is my first time and I don't even know what type my blood is, Anya, the Russian nurse, says that she just needs to give me a quick physical. I tell Anya that I am coming down with a cold and ask, "Will affect the quality of the donation?"
I swear to god, she looks at me with knitted brow, cocks her head to one side, and says, "Oh, this will just make you sicker. I'm sorry sweetheart, you need all the blood you can get."