S is for Sick...

This is how I feel after today's shenanigans.

Adam and I were in need of some extra moo-lah, so we decided to both go into the Plasma Center to exchange our fluids for money. I figure it's the only righteous way to sell my body for money. I wasn't super excited about the whole ordeal, but as they say... when the going gets tough, the tough sell their fluids... er... get going. Whatever. Adam had done it before in Spokane, and I decided to join him. I have donated blood many times, so I figured it would be no sweat. Easy breezy.

Nope.

I mean, the whole experience wasn't entirely horrid, but I've kinda had a rough day since they pulled the (very big) needle out of my arm. I felt a little woozy after I was all bandaged up, and the technician asked me a couple of times, "Are you sure you're alright?" and I answered in the affirmative. I mean, I've had the woozies after donating blood, and they usually go away once I get a glass of water and a cookie... or whatever.

So I jumped down from my seat and confidently bounced over to the payment window for my 25 bucks... and started feeling a little more than woozy. This was like, complete wooz-ification. Something was wrong. I knew that Adam was in the lobby waiting for his donation, and I wanted to see him, so I kept walking... getting more and more blurry-eyed and shaky-legged all the way. Everything was tingly... like when your leg falls asleep.

By the time I reached the lobby, I collapsed into a chair as Adam walked over, unaware that I was quickly losing control of my body and eyeballs. At this point, I couldn't keep my eyes open... like I had been cutting onions, or hadn't slept in days. When they were open, it was a blurry, blurry world. I was getting worried. And what's more, Adam's standing there, not knowing what to do, and I can't hardly talk. The loudest I could muster was a weak whisper.

"Honey... I'm light headed."

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"No... Adam... tell them... tell them..."

Adam saved the day before the passing-out actually happened. The head technician guy strode over in just enough time to escourt me back to one of the donation beds, and a nice girl in a pink shirt gave me a glass of water. I was kind of put off by the fact that my water glass was the same kind I used for my urine test, but I figured it was worth not passing out to start sipping the water and just relaxed.

Another technician put an instant ice pack behind my neck to encourage blood to rush there, and I sipped dutifully from my pee cup... er, water glass. All I wanted to do was close my eyes... I thought if I could just close my eyes and relax, everything would be okay. Closing my eyes felt like a great idea. Buuut I guess not. Just as I did so, one of the needle-poking boys walked by.

"Try and keep your eyes open... we need you to keep your eyes open."

Rats. Okay, no eye-closing. I obeyed... mostly.

After about ten minutes, they told me I could try and stand up, and could leave if I felt alright. And, in my over-confident manner, I gave it a good, solid try. I sat on the edge of my bed for a minute and wasn't feeling too bad, so I tried standing up. Once again... not too bad. I fetched my purse and sweatshirt from the floor, and took a couple of steps.

Oops.

Eyes blurred, arms tingled, everything started getting dark. I returned to my bed and had to laugh. Back in the saddle again. The nice boy in a white lab coat that had been helping me came right back over, and reminded me that "there's no rush" and "take my time" and all that. All I wanted to do was see Adam. If I could just see Adam, everything would be okay.

A minute or two later, the lab coat returned, but this time with a NutriGrain bar and a Capri Sun. Sweet. I felt like I was at a Little League game... in a good way. The donors around me started making jokes like, "Man, if I pretend I'm sick, do I get a treat, too?" I joined in on the joking, and felt kind of special as I downed my strawberry-wheat stick and grape-flavored water.

I guess little league snacks were all I needed. Soon enough, I was back on my feet, and feeling well enough to go see my Adam before he went in for his torture... er, donation. Thankfully, he was still there, and kinda gave me the "Honey, you're fine" look until I walked out the door. I came home, took a nap until Adam returned, and now, five hours later...

I don't feew vewwy good.

I've been hydrating and eating (heck, I made some delicious oatmeal bread today... MMM) but I still feel icky. Weak, achy, tired, lethargic... All I wanna do is close my eyes. Again. I'm sure I'll be fine. And if I return to the plasma center again this week, they'll pay me 35 bucks for donating twice in one week.

Is it worth it?

Meh. Maybe.