Saturday Morning

As I write this I am comfortably reclined in an upholstered chair, surrounded by equipment humming and clicking and occasionally beeping. A monitor and keyboard hover in front of me supported by an articulated arm *what the heck is that noise*

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Please excuse the interruption. I am at home now.

I intended to continue that first paragraph by explaining to you that I was blogging one-handed because my left arm was busy with a fat needle and a several clear tubes connected to an intricate machine named Amicus that was pumping blood out of my arm, extracting life-saving platelets, and returning my blood to me.

You may or may not know, so I will explain, that this is a completely sterile process, because the Amicus and others of its ilk are set up for each extraction with a sealed 'kit' of tubes and bags and such, so the only opening in the entire kit is at the needle. Everything from my entry paperwork to the final product is identified with barcode labels.

The kit itself fits into openings in the Amicus, and loading it is a process that - well, if you sew, have you ever threaded a serger? It's a lot like that. Bags go on hooks, tubes go into channels and around gears, and I don't know what else. It is an extremely well monitored system and I feel completely safe with the procedure, plus I get that warm fuzzy feeling of having done something beneficial for a cancer patient or some idiot who doesn't know to slow down when the streets are icy. They tell me that one platelet donation can save three lives.

I was going to tell you about my surroundings, including the man to my right who was quietly snoring, and the lady to my left who was engrossed in a book. I was going to describe the two phlebotomists who were at this time all the way down at the end of the long room, taking care of some chores after making sure we donors were snugly settled in.

I was rudely interrupted from this pleasant story-telling by the sudden onset of horrible banging and clanking and screeching noises from that wonderful machine named Amicus.

As I said, no one was nearby, so I said, loudly, "HELP!" That, or possibly the awful noises from Amicus, got the immediate attention of two skilled professionals, who rapidly shut down the machine, pulled the needle from my arm, and applied a gauze pad to the hole so my blood wouldn't leak out. They were calm but definitely not smiling as they diagnosed the problem as a "defective kit." I got the impression that this was something that would be intensely investigated. I can't even imagine how much paperwork this incident will generate.

They told me I was fine, but I would have to wait the full 58 days before I could donate again because I did not get that 'return'. I would need that time to rebuild my blood.

I really admire those women. I feel so safe in their care. Most of the time, everything goes as planned, but when it doesn't, there is no hesitation. They know exactly what to do.

I am really sorry they had to clean up all that mess, and I'm also sorry the blood was wasted. I'll go back in April. Or maybe May.

Tagged again

Anna tagged me for the same "meme" - would someone please tell me what that word means?
Anyhoo, here I go again - Good thing I've got more than one book . . .

Nearest book: Assuming that means physically nearest, this is on top of the stack of four I picked up at the library last night:

• Killer Waves, by Brendan DuBois.

I like his writing style and the characters he has created, and am trying to read my way through his entire body of work. (I wanted to use that French word that makes me think of eggs but I don't know how to spell it.)

Page 123:

• Has words, even paragraphs. That's good!

Skip five sentences, post the next three:

• "Anyway, the meeting got even stranger when people started arguing on why dogs have to get licensed, and cats don't, and cat owners are freeloaders when compared to dog owners. That's when I gave it up and decided to leave."
• "Good choice."

Am I the only one that has trouble refraining from adding context around these sentences?

Tag five people: I'm not entirely sure that I personally know five more bloggers, but I'll try.
*hmmmm* (humming and thinking) *hmm hmm hmm* (there has to be someone!)

Anita made me do it

I realize that I have not been blogging lately. It's not that I don't enjoy it - I have just felt very boring lately. But then I did say "even if no one else finds it interesting" so here I am, back again with boring stuff to say. Or maybe not . . .

Anita and I met at Starbuck's tonight for a mini-knit-in. We talked and knitted and laughed at ourselves. That was fun. And when you get right down to it, that sweet lady can be really sneaky. When she asked me if I had read her blog lately she didn't tell me she had tagged me.

I'm IT, so here goes!

Pick up the nearest book of 123 pages or more: Even though it is physically the closest, I think I'll skip the phone book - it doesn't have sentences. Next-nearest book is a used book that was given to me, and I haven't read it yet. Title is Spring Hill, Tennesee, subtitle, A Novel, author, Tom T. Hall.

I like his songs, so I should like his book as well.

On page 123, find the first 5 sentences: Done.

Post the next 3 sentences: "You oughta dress up mo' often. It make you look ten years younger every time."
Amanda brushed the front of the tweed jacket with her hand.

Tag five people: Andrea, Sam, Carolyn, Amanda, Linda

Fait accompli. I've never done this before; am I supposed to tell them they've been tagged, or just hang out until they find this?

Uh oh - look at the time! Yet another reason for me to avoid this activity. I really need to get more sleep!

I'll try to stop by here sooner next time. Just don't try to make me promise.