If you can do nothing else--donate blood.
And I can do nothing else. All my jobs are lost. In two weeks, I will have no health insurance. I will have no income. I have no prospecgts. I have no expectations. Although I feel I have just as much energy, just as much vim and vigor as I did the first time I turned 29; still, I believe that many would look at me at say, "the bloom is off the rose."
But I have two good arms flowing with healthy red blood.
Can you believe, that when I called to make an appointment, that they had records from my last donation--over 20 years ago. I didn't even remember it. The address and phone number they had was my prior address--from over 20 years ago. After I made the appointment, I went to my t-shirt draw--I keep t-shirts like other's keep albums. The last time I gave blood before Tuesday was 1995. Imagine how many different computler systems they must have used in the intervening decades. Heck, in 1995, we still used floppy disks. I probably still used earthlink.net for my e-mail. Or psychoanalysis.net.
I was impressed by the efficiency of the operation. You walk in, they put a paper thermometer under your tongue. 97*F. They take your BP. They take your pulse--old school--with their fingers. They take another temperature (97 again). Then, you're led into a wide open room with several comfy Captain Kirk lounge chairs and tap you like a maple tree. The whole bloodletting takes about 10 or 15 minutes--I have good veins.
Everybody is most pleasant and they insist you go into the rec room and have a snack. I received a snack bag with two packages of cookies and a bag of potato chips. And then my troubles started. I drank some juice, ate the cookies, read a magazine, then started on the chips. I ate one, felt a little nauseaus. I ate another, continued to feel nauseaus--so I gave it up, throw the chips away, put on my jacket, thanked them all, and left. I was home around 8PM and watched DOC MARTIN. DOC Martin ended around 8:45PM--and I felt a sharp wave of nausea return. Intense. I went to the bathroom, pushed back my hair, and embraced the toilet, assuming the inevitable. But I didn't spew, and peering down the rim of the toilet is not the esthetic spectacle of my lifetime, so I sat by the bathtub and leaned over. I read the fact sheet the blood center gave me--they recommended putt;ing the head between the knees in such cases--so I did. The nausea waned somewhat--so I went to bed, doing likewise (heck of a lot more comfortable than the bathroom). Reader--I didn't spew.
I would still give blood. I learned I'm O+. Does that make me an optimist? Next time--I bring my own snacks.