Friday, April 29, 2011

I Think That My Arm Might Fall Off in the Next Few Days

I gave blood the other day.

No big deal, or anything, but my blood could save someone's life.  This is a very good thing.  I like helping people, and giving blood is a good way to do that.

But there's a problem.

After I gave blood, the Red Cross people gave me a sheet of paper that had a list of symptoms and things that a person might develop after giving blood.  It said that if I developed any of the symptoms that I should call some sort of hotline or go to the hospital or something.

That was the beginning of the problem.

You see, if you tell me about a bunch of things that might go wrong with me, chances are, I'm going to think that they are going wrong.  That's just how I work.  However, this probably wouldn't have been a huge problem on its own.  Oh, no.

The real problem started when I forgot the piece of paper at the blood drive.

At that point, I had just been informed that something might go horribly wrong with me some time in the immediate future, but I didn't know exactly what might go wrong with me.  Anything out of the ordinary could be the omen of my death.  Heck, half of the ordinary things that could happen may be the grim reaper coming a-knockin'.  I was on edge.  I was a hair's-breadth away from complete and total hypochondriac meltdown.

Enter mysterious bruise.

This was my first time giving blood, so I didn't know what to expect. 

I definitely wasn't expecting a giant freaky bruise thing.

Okay, it's not giant, but it is really freaky looking.  I would have taken a picture to show you, but the picture did not adequately convey the terrifying horror of my bruise (and yes, I'm aware that that last sentence was slightly redundant.)

So anyway, I had this really freaky, nasty bruise on my arm that was making it look like the needle that was jabbed into my arm to get to my blood tore my vein and caused me to have internal bleeding.

At that point, I was pretty much convinced that I was going to either die or need to have my arm amputated.

My friends all told me that the freaky bruise was normal, but I knew, and I still know.

There is nothing natural about that monstrous contusion.

I am going to die.

Or my arm might fall off.

Either way, I'm screwed.

On the plus side, though, my puncture wound can tell when it's going to rain.

No comments:

Post a Comment