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Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Because her pending semester in China will take her off the blood donor roster for a while, EGA is anxious to donate as often as she can. She hit upon the notion of donating platelets-- which you can do quite frequently. She invited me along, and although I prefer my socializing to involve fluid intake instead of fluid loss, I'm a companionable guy, so I went for it.

"We'll put a tube in each arm, for output in one, and to restore the red blood cells and plasma in the other," the nurse said. "Cool," I said, and did not add, "I'll feel like Keith Richards." After they finish the exhaustive questionnaire about sexual habits ("Not even once?") it sort of dawns on you that joking around about transfusions at the Red Cross is probably like joking about bombs at the airport-- Not As Funny As You Think.

You know what happens as soon as you are hooked up and you can't move your arms? You got it-- your nose starts to itch. The whole thing is really simple enough, and certainly painless, but it is tedious. They let us watch "The Incredibles", which was fine, but it takes about an hour and a half once you have finished the screening ("Not even once?" "Really, never.")

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