Good times at the Red Cross...

I had better have saved at least a dozen lives today. Apparently I can't donate blood without at least a little drama. Today takes the cake though. So I showed up last week to donate blood with my hubby and they turned me away (I can't seem to pass the stinkin finger prick test) but today I loaded up on my iron and headed to Murray to drain my arm of some life saving blood. I passed the finger prick in only one try, went straight to a donor chair, the nice lady stuck my arm with no trouble, and I set a new record for my donating time (5:30, thank you very much). Things were going great. I shimmied out of the chair, made a beeline for the juice and cookies, sat down, and that's when the greatness ceased. I had about two minutes of thinking that I would get out of there in a half hour before I started feeling not so hot.

My head hit the table and I shook my head no when asked if I was ok. Two little helpful workers started to try to get me back to the donor chair when I blacked out and started puking. And puking. AND puking. Things I hurled on include (but are not limited to): my hair, my face, my hand, my shirt, my skirt (more on the skirt later), my shoes, my purse, AAND of course, the floor. Because no one was able to reach over 3 feet and grab me the trash can.

So then they decide to try to get me back to a chair, when I decide to clear my stomach one last time. They make the decision that I can't make it and put me on the floor. Right in front of the snacks so I'm RIGHT in everyone's way. If any of you have experienced something like this, you know that the next step is for you to put your feet up on a chair. And like I said, I was in a skirt and I may or may not have flashed all of the Red Cross my g's. They fixed this problem (or so they thought) with a lab coat draped over my legs. Unfortunately my skirt was still showing off my lovely bum. THIS problem was fixed with a roll of paper towels wrapped around my legs several times and then tied in a loose knot. And this was how they made me stay for the better part of an hour. I was quite the spectacle, let me tell you. All the while the cute little phlembotimist was telling me that she didn't mind cleaning up my throw up, yeah right.

Thankfully my hubby was working close by and came to my rescue. Of course I forgot my phone but the nice little superviser let me borrow her cell phone. I was deemed unfit to drive the half hour home, so now we have to go BACK to get my car sometime tonight. After America's Got Talent. Of course.