So I had this really odd dream where I was at my parents house, and I found a bunch of pornographic novels I'd mislaid. And I started reading what I thought was Autobiography of a Flea but instead turned out to be a story about an uncle seeking to seduce his 15 year old niece, Alice. I do not believe the name Alice is coincidental. Alice's father in the story married one of her playmates. Shades of Alessa? I don't even pretend to guess what's going on inside the grey darkness.
So I woke up at 6:30 (not suprising as I crashed early on the couch last night while hoppie was cooking dinner and I was "watching" Goldeneye) and then again after dinner for like 2 hours, and then I went upstairs and was still able to fall asleep. This more than anything else proves there's something wrong with me. Usually after a nap downstairs it takes me hours to get to sleep upstairs.) and then had to kill some time until I could go to the phlebotomist. (not as much as I'd thought though, I thoguht they opened at 9 and they actually opened at 8. Oh well.) So I logged in, wrote down all the details of my dream that I could remember, just in case I ever feel the need to write my own porn novel someday. Checked up with Frank, talked to Steph, warned Marsha I'd be late and headed off to the lab.
Traffic was backed up the way I normally would go through town, so I went the other way and took the back streets past the VA hospital. I got there before 9 and signed in. I only waited maybe about 5-10 minutes, didn't feel like very long at all and then I was in.
And this is vaguely amusing, she writes "hgc" in big letters on the chart, writes my doctor's name and send me to the chair.
She starts to tie up my left arm and feel for the vein.
I said, "If you can't find a good vein there, you might try the right. I usually give blood out of that arm, so they're pretty well trained."
And it's true. I went from being a terrible blood giver years ago, to a quick in-outer, and that's for a pint. This is nothing. She removes the left arm tie and ties up my right and of course my happy vein says, "Ah! I know what to do, and pops right out to be bled." She then turns to me and says, "Are you pregnant?"
and I laughed and said, "Well, that's really the question, isn't it. The pregnancy tests say no, but I'm symptomatic. And if I'm not pregnant, I want to know what's wrong with me."
She smiled and told me to make a fist. Stick, flow. I'm so proud of my vein. Such a good boy. It was over in seconds. My vein was probably like, "I woke up for that? That was nothing! Wake me when you've got some real work for me to do. And I should actually give blood. The Red Cross has a huge blood driving going on. When the word comes back that I'm not pregnant, I'll probably make an appointment to give blood, not that anyone wants my blood (AB+ - universal receiver, very limited audience), and I was back at work before 9:30.