All for naught, part deux.

Before I went to the plasma center today, I sat at work in my desk chair, practicing for giving plasma. No, I didn’t jam myself in the arm with a needle or feign passing out. I pretended my desk chair was the chair I would sit in to donate. I hung my arm out to the side as if there were an IV in it. I focused on my breathing, trying to imagine myself at the plasma center, in that chair, with a needle in my arm. (See? I knew that meditation would come in handy!) It only lasted about a minute before I started getting creeped out over an imaginary needle, so there was no need to take a formal break, boss.

I spent the rest of the day trying to rationalize my fear of needles:

Okay. So why are you afraid of needles?

Because they poke you in the arm.

Why does that bother you?

Because it hurts!

But didn’t you give birth to a 9 pound baby without drugs?

Yeah, so.

Well, this is just a little needle.

… that will hang about in my arm for an hour and a half!

But it’s still just a minor annoyance compared to the week long labor pains and birth of your son.

Do you know me at all, Self? I gave birth to Riley without any drugs because I DIDN’T WANT A NEEDLE IN MY ARM!!

Whew. My anti-needle self sure is cranky.

I had come close to resolving my fear, at least until I saw the needle near my skin. As I mentioned yesterday, I tried to call to see if I could take a certain prescription and still donate and they said I had to come in to find out. So I left work early, picked up Riley, dropped him right back off into another daycare (they offer it at plasma) which he hated, and went through the entire process again… only to be told that yes, I can donate while taking this medicine, BUT I could not donate with a mouth ulcer, which I am taking the medicine for.

Seriously? I told the girl that I tried to find out over the phone, and she was at a loss to why they wouldn’t tell me. So that’s nice. So I picked up Riley and went home, having wasted another hour, not to mention drinking at least 130 ounces of water (I swear I went to the bathroom 12 times today) and eating nasty cafeteria mixed veggies with my lunch (which I swore I would never eat veggies from the cafeteria again) instead of something good and fried.

Now, it is more about the principal of the matter than of my fear of needles. I WILL donate. They can’t stop me. I WILL win this. I’m trying again on Friday.


To celebrate another wasted afternoon attempting to donate, I ate a big, fat piece of cake for supper. I’ll probably have lucky charms for dessert… after I run on the treadmill, of course.

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