Untapped

So there I was, getting myself all psyched up to donate blood. I drank about 6 bottles of water. I ate plenty to keep my blood sugar up. I even pinched myself a little to see if I could hack the teensy amount of pain that resulted from getting one's veins tapped.

I drove over to the Bloodmobile's location, ascended the stairs, marveled at how cute and compact the medical-facility-on-wheels was, and even read the important leaflet.

I went into a screening room (more appropriately a screening "closet") and sat with a nurse, who pricked my finger, declared me not-anemic, and checked my pulse and blood pressure. You'll be delighted to know I was declared quite normal indeed.

But then, as she looked at my arm, she discovered a patch of eczema that was so faint that even I didn't notice it was there. For whatever reason, this bit of eczema (because it's in the area of my arm to be swabbed for a donation) would prevent me from donating. Not because it would taint the blood supply, but because such blood work in such an irritated spot would "cause me problems."

Thus, I was rejected by the American Red Cross, or at least "deferred" until my skin clears up. Not going to lie; my feelings are a bit hurt.