Plasma and Platelets

I've never given blood. When I was pregnant, I had blood removed from my body by force multiple times for various tests. That's about it.

At some point in my life, probably college, I was first introduced to the idea of blood donation. I weighed 108lbs. And if any of you know the rules to blood donation, that meant I couldn't donate.

Holy what?! Seriously? I had been given a free pass, an out!!  Hell yeah!

Now, let me be the first to say, please donate. It's necessary. Donors of all types are heroes. Period. My husband donates blood on a regular basis. He did it today. I'm very proud of him for that. When my mother was still alive, she benefited greatly from the generosity of others. I will always feel a sense of gratitude to the anonymous blood donors that made it possible to enjoy one more day with my mother.

Phew. Now that I've got that PSA out of the way...

That fateful day back in college was life changing. From then on, it has been my goal to never be able to give blood. I'm fearful of needles. I don't like the idea of being hooked up to some machine to suction my blood from my body. I faint easily. Seriously. I do. It's not the sight of blood that's the problem, but instead the loss of blood. It's my blood. I guess I'm selfish.

Every time I step on a scale, it's the only thought I have.

Please let it be under 110. Please let it be under 110. Please, please, please.

My weight is good if I can't donate blood. Now, don't get me wrong...I'm always right on the border. I know there are days every month that I could definitely give blood. But until my weight is consistently above the 110 mark, I'm riding the wave. For as long as I can. Because, one day my free pass will be up. I will no longer have an out. I will have to suck it up, roll up my sleeve, and donate.