Saturday, December 12, 2009

Drink lots of fluids, call if you feel sick, and no strenuous activity.

It's possible that I'm a moron.

I'm not saying it's true! Just possible.

Today, I gave blood. Everything was going fine, my iron levels were good, my temperature was fine (the second time round, I might be getting sick, yetch), I haven't had sex with a man who's had sex with a man who contradicted AIDS in Africa, yadda yadda yadda. Surprisingly, I was done rather quickly, then ate some cookies and off I went.

Right in time to seem my bus drive pass. Darn.

So, being the bright, intellectual, academically-inclined person that I am, I decided to walk.

One of the things they tell you after giving blood is to avoid strenuous activity. Now, I assumed that translated as, don't run a marathon, don't go rock climbing, do use this as an excuse not to vacuum.

Apparently, it also meant don't walk.

From the clinic to my house, it's about a thirty minute walk. Not a big deal. Off I went, humming 'Merry Chrisislamakwansica' under my breath.

Twenty five minutes into this walk, I realized something was wrong.

When texting to say I'd be home soon, I had to physically slow down because I couldn't concentrate on my phone and the path ahead. I'm a teenager: I can text anywhere anytime anyplace. This was not good.

I put my phone away and that was when I realized that if I didn't stop, my body was going to. I stopped and woah, dizziness. My heart was racing, my skin was clammy and I felt like I was a step away from fainting.

How exactly had I not noticed that?

I took a moment, but I was so close to home that it seemed ridiculous to stop.

I took another step.

Wrong move. I swayed but managed to stay upright long enough to think, oh gee I should sit, and then I sat. At the side of the road. Alone. In the dark.

Another two minutes and I'd be home! If I could just get off my ass...

A failed attempt at standing was all I needed to get out my phone and call home. Sure, it'd be a thirty second ride, but I was desperate. Last thing I needed was to wake up with bugs stabbing at me 'cause I conked out at the side of the road. Or worse.

I managed to stand and walk another thirty paces before I saw my ride. They didn't ask why I'd wanted to be picked up at the side of the road two minutes from home, and that was probably for the best.

Now I'm at home, lying in bed, studying the hole in my elbow, and wondering if a fear of needles is rational.

Yup, I'm a moron.