Blood was everywhere. The Red Cross was on hand helping the dozens of people lying on their backs. People turned their heads to avoid seeing what was being done to them by the people in white.
Questions and questions were asked. People answered the best they could; creating a constant susurrus as a backdrop. The concourse echoed the names and numbers called out as the blood pooled and collected.
I saw it all. The confusion. The brief reassuring smiles to one another as people moved from one location to another. I saw the nervousness, the anxiety, and the worry. From the chaos the order prevailed and then it was my turn.
I answered as best I could. Telling what needed to be told. Cooperating and refusing to show my concern. I even joked hoping I could ease the mood and tension.
Then the sharp pain and the reassurance that all was going well.
I gave my pound of flesh. Well, a pound of blood. I made my donation of blood at the American Airline Center last Friday so I could get an autographed hockey puck. The hoops we’ll jump through for a signature.
It was quick and fairly painless.
In return, I got a Steve Ott signed puck, a voucher for 2 tickets, and a coupon for $25 off my next American Airline ticket. A pretty good trade for an hour of time and tired old blood. How cheaply we sell ourselves.
And as an added bonus, I got to eat all the free Oreos I could stomach. And if you know me, I can eat a lot of Oreos. I sure they were happy when I left the recovery area.
AH
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