Oh, The Irony

It's been my goal to give as much blood as possible as often as possible.

Be Positive.

I'd like to save a life.

After convincing my mother to donate with me, we hop in the car and race to the front doors.

Mississippi Blood Services close at 2:30.

We pull on the doors. Frown. And as we turn away, a little nurse angel opens the door and invites us in.

They never give you fun Band-Aids when you grow up.

Pricked finger. Curled toes. Wince. SQUEEEEEEEEZE.

"Your iron is too low, sweetie."

-what does that mean?

"It means your iron is too low."

-what does that mean?

"It means you should eat more"

-ha.

She tries again. SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE.

"Now it's even lower."

Hands me pamphlet. ("Why You Can't Donate Blood" blah blah blah)

"Would you like me to prick your other finger?"

-maybe next time.