I watched yesterday as several ambulances tried to navigate traffic. It was Friday rush hour, and after a week of work, every car on the road seemed to be in a hurry to get to their destination. After all, where they were going on a Friday night in June was much more important. Nobody pulled over for the ambulance. What if that ambulance was transporting a family member? Heading to an accident in which a friend was involved? And still - no body moves. It was as if they didn't notice. I hope they at the very least give blood.
I don't give blood. I have been asked, kindly, not to come back. It's just more work than it's worth. My veins play hide and seek from the needle and it drives the phlebotomist mad. At the first site of my own blood gathering in that bag, I go down for the count. I pass out. Two days ago, I sat down on a sharp edge, and stabbed myself in the back of the leg. It is only a half-inch cut, but... at the site of my own blood... I hit the floor. For the sake of the person in the ambulance, I'm glad there are others out there who do indeed give blood. A friend received his gold card for having donated blood over 100 times (106 times as of next Saturday).
Today is World Blood Donor Day. For everyone that has given blood even once, have a glass of OJ and a cookie, and pat yourself on the back. For me, I'll reach for the smelling salts.