You guys.

I’m going to tell you a little story about what happens when a girl is born without any common sense.

The girl is me.

You are welcome in advance.

Yesterday, my dad went into the hospital to have his prostate lasered which was, if you’re curious, a TOTAL SUCCESS! He was discharged this morning without needing a catheter which is the first time that has ever happened and my mom and I maybe almost cried until I was like oh my God, why are we crying over a catheter? OUR LIVES OUR SO SAD.

I vowed to the world that I would give blood yesterday while my dad was in surgery. I figured it would get me out of my head, I would do something nice for society, I would donate in his honor since he received a blood transfusion, etc. I tell you this because I want you to know that my intentions were noble. I WOULD DONATE BLOOD, BRAVE SOLDIER THAT I AM! Honorable! Courageous! (Yet ultimately, so so stupid.)

You should also know that I have a strong solid history of blood donating. I pass the questionnaire every time! No! I have never lived in England! No! I have never had sex with a prostitute! No! I have never had sex with a man who has had sex with a prostitute!

I can stand up after giving blood and feel like I can run a MARATHON! I mean, I wouldn’t. But I feel like I could! I eat some cookies, drink some juice and skip all the way home. I’m all, you just took 1/8th of my blood supply? YOU COULD PROBABLY TAKE ANOTHER 1/8th! BECAUSE I AM THE STRONGEST! GIRL! IN! THE! WORLD!

Also, worthy of note? I always pass the hemoglobin test.

My hemogloblin is ROCKIN’. I have the iron levels of a carnivorous dinosaur. THAT IS RIGHT. T-REX UP IN THIS PIECE.

Which is particularly interesting because I am a vegetarian. And I feel like everyone (and by everyone, I mean my family members) are always like VEGETARIANS SUCK AND ARE STUPID AND YOU ARE PROBABLY ANEMIC AND HAVE OSTEOPOROSIS AND WILL DIE BY AGE 30 and then I go to the doctor and the doctor is all, LAURA YOU ARE IN PERFECT HEALTH and I’m all, THAT IS RIGHT, BITCHES. I can, in fact, name two close omnivorous friends who are consistently anemic and eat meat on the regular. So, someone explain that to me. DO IT NOW.

But not immediately now because I’m telling a story.

So of course I showed up to give blood at 53rd and Lexington Avenue at 1 in the afternoon yesterday on my lunch break and sat down with Cynthia who checked to make sure I had a pulse (I did! It was 60! Is that good?) and that my blood pressure was okay (It was! Perfect score!) And she pricked the middle finger of my left hand to test my hemoglobin and the little machine beeped and flashed the number 12.2.

I needed a 12.5 to give blood.

I was furious. I was all WHAT?! I SAID T-REX UP IN THIS PIECE!

Let me just tell you that that has never happened to me before. I HAVE NEVER FAILED THE HEMOGLOBIN TEST, Y’ALL. I have never failed anything in my life except a math test in 5th grade and every AP European History exam I ever took. (THAT SHIT WAS HARD. EUROPE HAS LOTS OF COUNTRIES AND LOTS OF HISTORY, ETC.) I mean, I graduated summa cum laude! I AM A WINNER!

I begged Cynthia to re-test.

And here is where my mother slams her head against a concrete wall a few times while screaming WHY WHY WHY IS MY DAUGHTER SO STUPID!? She’s so wonderful in so many ways but MY GOD SHE IS DUMB!!!

I was borderline on the hemoglobin.

Which pissed me off.

But made sense when I later realized that I was…how do you say this…in a delicate female way on this particular day? DO YOU GET WHAT I AM SAYING? So it makes sense that my iron was low? And how had I not taken this into account? Because I don’t have the best luck with that sort of stuff to begin with. I mean, I have a category on my blog devoted to my uterus.

REGARDLESS.

Cynthia said she could call Hannah over and Hannah could prick the middle finger of my right hand and maybe the hemoglobin would go up. She suggested shaking my hand a little bit to get that blood flow moving. Hannah sat down and was like LET’S TRY AGAIN! And I said YES PLEASE I HAVE TO, FOR MY DAD! and got a little blubbery and Cynthia and Hannah were like WHAT THE? And the hemoglobin machine beeped and it was a stunning 12.5!

PASSED THAT TEST!

TOTAL ACES!

Sat down in the recliner. Rolled up my sleeve. Hannah punctured my vein and my blood flowed beautifully into a little plastic bag. Balthazar came over and covered my legs with a royal blue blanket. And there I sat, all cozy and happy, alternately reading my book and talking to Hannah about her life in South America.

After about seven minutes, that bag was full. FAST MOVING BLOOD! I WIN! AT EVERYTHING!

How do you feel? asked Hannah.

AMAZING, I replied.

Make sure you eat some cookies! warned Balthazar.

NO PROBS, I told him and slapped him high five.

I made my way over to a table, ate some shortbread, drank a fruit punch juicebox, read some facts about blood donation, stood up and felt glorious. JUST ANOTHER DAY GIVIN’ OVER MY BLOOD SUPPLY!

I wandered out onto the street and my phone vibrated with a call from my mom, letting me know my dad was out of surgery and that she was having lunch with my brother on 68th and 1st, did I want to come meet them and then walk over to the hospital?

YOU BET I DID!

I figured I’d just take a longer lunch break and get everything done at once – blood! dad visit! The end!

It was a gorgeous day yesterday, the sun shining, temperatures in the lower 80′s and I realized I was only about fifteen blocks and three avenues away from where my mother and brother were.

WHY SELF, I said to myself, I THINK I SHALL WALK!

And so I did.

And when I told this to my brother Paul later, Paul who curses like a sailor, he was like WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?

And I was like, what!? It was a nice day! It’s not that far!

And he threw up his hands and muttered a string of things I cannot write out because my mom’s boss reads this blog and he is a priest. (HOLLA FATHER BOB!)

So, I sauntered up 2nd Avenue, listening to the new Maroon 5 CD which, let me tell you, makes me want to tonguekiss everyone in sight. I met my mom and Paul at the restaurant, chatted for a little while, walked with them back to the hospital, took the elevator up to my dad’s floor and was all HEY! I GAVE BLOOD FOR YOU! HOW WAS SURGERY!?

My dad looked amazing and felt great, which is the most important aspect of the story. He was so adorable too because they gave him an epidural before the surgery so he kept trying to wiggle his toes as the feeling came back to his lower half. I asked him how his legs felt and told him how my day was going and my brother Paul was telling this story about someone at work and then…

Something wasn’t right.

I realized that I was about twenty seconds away from throwing up all over my father.

I need the bathroom, I said, reaching out for my mom’s shoulder in an attempt to steady myself.

I was suddenly overheated, sweating and clammy, nauseated.

The room started to spin.

I’ll take you! said my brother, looking at me with caution. He took me by the arm and we walked a few steps.

I remember thinking Hm. This is about as far as I can go.

And with that, I leaned back against a hospital wall and slowly slid down it until I collapsed on the floor.

And that was when about six nurses came running.

One of them handed me a small pink basin in case I got sick and I recall thinking HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO FIT ALL MY VOMIT INTO THIS LITTLE BIN THAT LOOKS LIKE A KIDNEY? Surely there would be some kind of splattering up the sides, AM I RIGHT? This hospital is STRESSING ME OUT.

Then someone else came over with SMELLING SALTS.

Did you know they STILL USE SMELLING SALTS IN 2010!?

I felt so Victorian!

Me! Of slight constitution! My heavens! Mildred! Get me my smelling salts, I’m having a spell!

Except it’s sort of a spray now? And it smells TERRIBLE. And this nurse was waving it around my face, spraying it over and over and my God, it was awful and yet it totally worked! It stopped me from blacking out completely, anyway. And the nausea subsided almost immediately.

The room finally stood still and there was a circle of nurses around me, all asking me if I needed juice or water and someone started wheeling over a hospital recliner and my mom is shouting SHE GAVE BLOOD SHE GAVE BLOOD! SHE IS SUCH AN IDIOT!!! LAURA I SWEAR I AM GOING TO KILL YOU! and Paul is staring at me like IS SHE DEAD? And then my poor father, paralyzed from the waist down is like ARE YOU REALLY STEALING MY THUNDER RIGHT NOW!???? That I come to the hospital and get out of REALLY IMPORTANT SURGERY and then you faint and everyone comes running to you?

DRAMA QUEEN UP IN HERE!

And that is how it came to be that I spent the afternoon in a hospital recliner with juice and tea, next to my father who had no feeling in his legs. My mom was so wonderful, I mean, as much as I bust on her. She wiped my forehead and held my hand and then leaned down and was like I am going to be your mother for one second and do not blog about this but YOU HAVE TO STOP MAKING DUMB CHOICES. NO MORE GIVING BLOOD FOR YOU!

And I was all NO REALLY I AM AN EXPERT BLOOD GIVER!

And Paul was like YEAH MAYBE UNTIL YOU WALKED 20 BLOCKS IN THE 85 DEGREE HEAT.

And then he snapped photos on his iPhone for posterity.

I edited them for clarity.

The best part about this event was how much mileage I got out of it in terms of making my father laugh. Every so often, he’d turn to me from his bed and ask, “LAWRA, HOW YOU DOIN’?!” and I’d scoff and snap sarcastically, “OH LIKE YOU CARE. I ALMOST FAINTED DEAD AWAY AND YOU JUST SAT THERE. NOT EVEN MOVING. I MEAN, YOU DIDN’T EVEN GET UP.”

And at these remarks, the nurses would laugh and my father would howl which was the most glorious sound in the world. So naturally I kept on with it and we played our little game, my dad asking me how I was doing and me telling him over and over that he was my FATHER, the least he could do when I fell was to GET OUT OF BED AND CHECK ON ME. BUT NO! He just lay there! SO SELFISH!

Everything worked out fine in the end though my mother made me swear never to give blood again. I probably will though. Just not when it’s hot out. Or when I’m in a delicate female way.

I’m still feeling woozy today and not quite myself. I’m flirting with the idea of going back to the blood center and asking if I could please have my blood back, would that be okay? I kind of need it!

But dad is doing wonderfully! And is on his way home.

And I’m still missing a substantial amount of blood but it will soon be regenerated and all will be well.

LET THIS BE A LESSON TO YOU ALL: Do not give blood and then walk 20 blocks in the heat. Especially not when you are in the delicate female way. For perhaps then, they shall have to send Mildred for the smelling salts to revive you.

YOU FEEL ME?

This has been a public service announcement.

YOU ARE WELCOME.