Do you know the expression, "no good deed goes unpunished"? My life is really living up to that this week.
On Monday, I got a call from the Red Cross, to the effect of "we're having a blood drive on Wednesday, what time would you like to come by?" Note, they didn't ask "would you like to come by" but "when can you come by?" This is because I gave blood during a drive in January and now I'm in their database. Well, you can't really say no in those positions can you? I guess I've got all this blood in my body and it would be unfair of me to hog it all.
So I showed up on Wednesday, and as always, had to go through the frigging Spanish inquisition they put you through for the privilage of being jabbed with a needle. As I answer "no" to every single one, I imagine all the smart-ass answers I could give if I was more of a jerk than I am.
Them:"In the last twelve months have you exchanged money for sex?"
Me: "Uhh..what day is it?"
Them:"Have you ever traveled to the countries of Chad, Uganda, Sudan, Ethiopia or Somalia?"
Me: "Do Epcot pavilions count?"
Anyway, they jab me, and after they get all the blood they need, the woman returns to remove the needle, and I notice a lot more excrutiating pain then normal when she pulls it out. I don't really think much about it and go on with my normal routine.
Then I wake up on Friday morning and I notice that my right arm is much more purple then normal. Much more. It is also twice as big as my left arm, which I am 99% sure was not the case previously. A frantic call to the red cross later (and let me tell you, those people suck at answering their phone) and all come away with is that its just normal bruising and I should keep and eye on it, which is pretty easy as it has now become the amazing technicolor dream arm.
So by Saturday morning not only is the arm still horribly miscolored, now there are noticible red streaks running up and down it's length. At the advice of 1-800-ask-a-nurse, I break down and hed to the emergency room. The people there are surprisingly sympathetic, and unlike the Red Cross are quite willing to admit that the woman who drew my blood screwed up big time, rupturing a vein and causing bleeding under the skin, what apparently in medical mumbo-jumbo is known as "hematoma". However, they really can't give me any more advice than to keep ice on it since they don't see any obvious infection (the phrase "does this look infected?" is not nearly as funny when you are saying it). Also, apparently I could be stuck with a purple arm for some time since these things can take weeks to clear up.
So anyway, all I know is that in eight weeks, when the Red Cross comes calling, I'll tell them where they can stick their needle.
On Monday, I got a call from the Red Cross, to the effect of "we're having a blood drive on Wednesday, what time would you like to come by?" Note, they didn't ask "would you like to come by" but "when can you come by?" This is because I gave blood during a drive in January and now I'm in their database. Well, you can't really say no in those positions can you? I guess I've got all this blood in my body and it would be unfair of me to hog it all.
So I showed up on Wednesday, and as always, had to go through the frigging Spanish inquisition they put you through for the privilage of being jabbed with a needle. As I answer "no" to every single one, I imagine all the smart-ass answers I could give if I was more of a jerk than I am.
Them:"In the last twelve months have you exchanged money for sex?"
Me: "Uhh..what day is it?"
Them:"Have you ever traveled to the countries of Chad, Uganda, Sudan, Ethiopia or Somalia?"
Me: "Do Epcot pavilions count?"
Anyway, they jab me, and after they get all the blood they need, the woman returns to remove the needle, and I notice a lot more excrutiating pain then normal when she pulls it out. I don't really think much about it and go on with my normal routine.
Then I wake up on Friday morning and I notice that my right arm is much more purple then normal. Much more. It is also twice as big as my left arm, which I am 99% sure was not the case previously. A frantic call to the red cross later (and let me tell you, those people suck at answering their phone) and all come away with is that its just normal bruising and I should keep and eye on it, which is pretty easy as it has now become the amazing technicolor dream arm.
So by Saturday morning not only is the arm still horribly miscolored, now there are noticible red streaks running up and down it's length. At the advice of 1-800-ask-a-nurse, I break down and hed to the emergency room. The people there are surprisingly sympathetic, and unlike the Red Cross are quite willing to admit that the woman who drew my blood screwed up big time, rupturing a vein and causing bleeding under the skin, what apparently in medical mumbo-jumbo is known as "hematoma". However, they really can't give me any more advice than to keep ice on it since they don't see any obvious infection (the phrase "does this look infected?" is not nearly as funny when you are saying it). Also, apparently I could be stuck with a purple arm for some time since these things can take weeks to clear up.
So anyway, all I know is that in eight weeks, when the Red Cross comes calling, I'll tell them where they can stick their needle.
sick_sicilian:
lmaooooooo...oh im not laughing at your story and horrible mishap but more for the fact the way u described it. sorry to hear, i feel ur pain life is frustrating in itself no?