Sometimes you gotta take the hit.

Well.

I woke up to a beaut of a morn.  I was in a good mood. I slept well, I felt well.  It was good all the way around.

Then I went to give blood.  If you're squeamish, do what you have to do, or just skip down to THE POINT OF THIS.

It's usually a pretty routine deal.  Most times I give platelets and RBCs.  Usually, they have to lower the pressure on the machine for my vein, and it tries to suck the blood out with too much pressure, and the machine pauses.  They have to come over and reset. Absolutely normal.  Usually.  Then i'm good, sometimes for a few more minutes, sometimes not. 

And usually in the 'center' vein of my right arm. 

Well. First, the chair next to it had a longer arm on the left arm, so I decided against the right arm.  Then, the lady came over ( not the routine stick-me-in-the-arm-lady) and chose the 'outside' vein.

I should have known.

For those of you that have not given platelets, there is a 'draw' and 'return'.  The draw takes the blood, it gets centrifuged (I guess) and then they give it back to you with some saline.  Or carb solution, or whatever.  Clear crap that your body likes. Anyhyoo, they keep the platelets.  That's the point.

Anyhoo, on the first return, I experienced immense pain.  Did not feel right at all.  No sir.  F'n. hurt.  They backed the needle out a little; assessed the situation, and we continued.

Now, I'm not a rocket scientist, but if you have a 2 inch needle, and it's stuck most of the way in for a surface vein, it might be stuck just a bit too far.  It was adjusted, and we continued with no further pain.  There is always some pressure; that's part of the game.

Fast forward 10 minutes.  It was then noticed that the 'product' was not being taken from me. (i.e. bag the stuff goes ain't fillin'.)  So, the decision was made to end the donation.  It was determined that the 'kit', the plastic bags and tubes and stuff, wasn't allowing collection.  Ok, fine.  I'll just drink the juice I just started drinking, and enjoy the rest of the day.

Now, I've got three icepaks, and i'm nursing a goose-egg sized area where the blood, "probably during the return entered the tissues surrounding the vessel itself."  Maybe that pain thing from earlier?

I think so. 

So.  Maybe in a few days, when the big ass bruise has formed, you'll get to share in my unsightly bruise on my left arm.  Just peachy.

THE POINT OF THIS...

Sometimes, no matter how good things are going, things can take a shit in a hurry, and intantaneously erase any momentum generated earlier in the day.

The point is, sometimes you just gotta take the hit. It's out of your control.  Not your fault.  Wrong place at the wrong time.  Just wasn't meant to be. 

Maybe some relay switch installed before you were named to the mission blew your O2 tanks, and you have to find a way to put a square filter on a round hole so you can live in the Lander until you get your happy ass back around the Earth to have a chance to land.

So take the bruise. It will be in the front of your mind, visible, in your life for a bit.  But, like all things, it will escape the view, and it won't remind you after a period of time.  You may even recall it later, but it is just one of life's things.  God has to keep you on your toes somehow.  Sometimes they get jammed, stubbed, or you lose the nail.

Then nail always grows back.  And if it doesn't, maybe you don't need that particular nail anymore.

As for me now, I'm on icepak no. 2.

Take the hit.  Learn.  Adjust.  Continue.