The Associated Pest

I’m not a big fan of needles. I am also scared I have some strange disease, that I’d be happier if I never knew about. Today I shed 27 long years of fear and decided to donate my blood. Well, actually a woman accosted me in my office and I just couldn’t bring myself to say no. It was time for me to give back to society for once. In the interest of full disclosure, she did offer me chicken too, and it was lunch time after all. The icing on the cake was this poster (pictured) that they stuck on the elevator of the building. Who can say no to that?

I headed out to the parking lot towards the white bus. I stopped and decided to have a cigarette, not only to quell my anxiety, but I genuinely thought the recipient might enjoy the nicotine streaming through their system in that hour of need as much as I had. It is a calming agent after all right?

When I arrived it was basics time. Temperature, pulse, a finger prick to get a quick sample, and the questionnaire. Oh, the dreaded questionnaire! I had heard about this. Another reason I had put this day off for so long. Questions start off simple enough, but get stranger as you work your way down. They also tend to reiterate variations of the same question. And from what I gather, 1977 must be the year AIDS was born.

Their questions are somewhat perplexing at times. I wasn’t sure if I should really answer truthfully. I mean, I wanted to give blood (ok, I wanted to see if I have some crazy illness too, and there was the issue of the chicken).

I’ve let a girl buy me dinner a few nights when I was broke. I didn’t like her much but retreated to the bedroom anyways. Does that count as “Receiving Any Monetary Payment For Sex?” I’ve also dated a girl that took a semester abroad in Cape Town, does that count as ever having, “Sexual Contact with a Person Who Has Lived in Africa?” I wanted chicken, I mean to give blood, so I told a few white lies there.

I thought I aced my test and was ready for insertion, but as the nurse graded my exam she noticed a weak link in my checkered past. A recent tattoo was to blame for my being denied. I was offered a beverage for my time. It was a very nice gesture. As I reached into the cooler for my Coke I eyed the chicken a few inches away, but I resisted. I thought about my little white cells chasing away all my toxins and diseases, and how much good they could have done for someone else. I thought about that gunshot victim in the future that will really need that nicotine and I was truly saddened for my indiscretions.

I’m not giving up hope though. I’ve got options. I’m giving blood damn it! I’m sure the army wouldn’t mind taking it and spilling it somewhere. One man’s trash in another man’s treasure right?

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