Author Archives: mohawkvalleygirl

I was going to call it Spectacle II, but I thought Woozy II had more of a ring to it.

So there I was going back to work after giving blood, still in a semi-woozy state. I had talked to my manager. I also reported to my nearest co-worker. I figured if I collapsed in a heap, he would be the first to notice.

Lunch was less than a half hour away. I could make it. I was sitting down, I could work slowly. As I had walked from the blood drive place to my area, I had been pleased to note that I felt better. As I worked, I was discouraged to note that I felt worse. Headache, nausea, I could rock this, I told myself.

Putting food in my body would probably help. I had some vanilla yogurt and diced apple with granola. I usually eat it for my 9 a.m. snack, but this day I had gone to the blood drive instead. That went down OK, but nothing else in my lunch box sounded even vaguely appetizing.

I told my co-workers about my woozy experience. They told me I still looked a little woozy and advised me to report back to the nurses. I told them that every time they used the word “woozy” I felt a little more woozy. I have a very suggestible nature. For the rest of the day, one guy made it a point to use the word “woozy” in every sentence he spoke.

“You look as if you don’t feel too good,” another fellow said, too tactful to say I looked like crap, which I believe is what he was thinking.

At one point I stood up to go join a couple of guys who always work on the crossword puzzle in the newspaper during lunch. I changed my mind and sat back down. Co-workers expressed further concern, but I assured them I was fine.

“You just stood up and immediately had to sit back down, I don’t think you’re better,” said the guy who had told me I didn’t look too good.

“I didn’t have to sit back down, I chose to sat back down,” I told him, and hoped he didn’t notice I said “sat” for “sit” after “chose to.”

Another co-worker gave me some pretzel rods, which did help settle my stomach. She said she would keep an eye on me during the afternoon. “If I see a grey-haired speed bump in the aisle, I’ll know it’s you,” she said.

“But you won’t see her legs,” a guy said, referring to my camouflage BDU pants.

“Does Cindy even have legs?” someone asked.

“I got legs,” I told them. “ZZ Top wrote a song about it.” I sang a little of it, in case they didn’t know what I meant.

“You’re not planning on quitting your day job any time soon, are you?”

I gave him my saddest look.

“Are your feeling hurt or are you feeling woozy?”

“My feelings are so hurt, it’s making me woozy.” I took my unloved voice back to work.

I’m pleased to report that no grey-haired speed bumps (really an inspired description) caused anybody any hazard. After a while I got myself a blue Gatorade out of the machine. Miraculously, I began to feel better. Words cannot describe the happiness I felt at not having a headache.

So that is my story about giving blood. I signed up to give blood again in June. I put myself down for 12:45 p.m., right after lunch. We’ll see how much a hearty meal immediately beforehand helps.

I promised a post explaining yesterday’s brainless state (I truly felt I had none), so here it is.

My place of employment had a blood drive. I had neglected to sign up before Thursday afternoon so did not have an assigned time. Accordingly, I made my way to where the drive was being held at 9 a.m., their purported start time, in hopes they could take me as a walk in. They could.

Now I know from giving blood. I used to work blood drives with my service sorority in college, and I gave numerous times while in the military. I did not drink wine the night before, and I made sure I ate a healthy breakfast (banana with peanut butter and cottage cheese with walnuts). I had eaten breakfast prior to 6 a.m, but I ate a fiber bar while waiting my turn in line, so I really thought I would be fine. Full disclosure: I had a headache, as I have been having a lot lately (concerned readers will perhaps like to know that I have made a doctor’s appointment to address this problem). However, I knew the headache was not due to a cold, the flu or anything else contagious. So I thought it would be OK to give blood.

Actually, I thought I might ask one of the nurses about the headache and if it would be a good idea to give blood. I figured when they were asking me all the questions: do you feel good, did you have sex with a prostitute, etc. But they didn’t ask me the questions: they sat me at a computer by myself and I had to click on yes or no with the mouse. I suppose this ensures privacy for the sex questions. I confess I did click “yes” for “do you feel well and healthy today,” but they did not offer “as well as I have been feeling lately” as a choice. Don’t judge me.

I don’t like to pick, but the folks doing the blood drive were a trifle unorganized. It took a while to get me on the table bleeding into a bag, but I finally made it. The gurneys were kind of old and flat. The folks giving double got to be on the nice reclining tables, which I used to enjoy at a blood giving place in Georgia some years ago. I’m still not clear on what “double” is. I asked but found out I do not qualify. Females must weigh at least 175 lbs. Let’s hear it for the South Beach Diet!

So there I was sitting at the table, drinking juice and eating crackers. Other people finished their drinks and snacks and got out of there, but the volunteer kept pressing more juice or water on me. She didn’t think I looked so good. When I put my head down on the table, she was sure of it. I observed that they did not have the cot behind the screen for passers out. Merely an observation, I didn’t feel about to pass out, I just felt like crap. The lady hollered at some people to set it up, that I needed to lie down.

Actually I had to pee, and the ladies room was not close. The volunteer lady nicely escorted me down in the elevator. By the time we got back up, the cot was set up and they made me lie down. I guess I had to. I stayed there for a long time, occasionally sipping from a bottle of water and feeling really stupid. I saw two co-workers from my area. I was pretty sure they saw me, so my absence from my machine would be explained.

After a long time I felt like sitting up. I ate some more cookies and crackers, drank some more water. I kept saying I had to go back to work, and the volunteer ladies kept telling me I needed to stay right there till I felt better. When I stood to throw away my garbage, I seemed a little steadier on my feet. I thought I would be OK to go back to work. After all, I sit at my machine and work at my own pace. And by now it only lacked a half hour till lunch.

I found my foreman and said, “Don’t be mad at me.” See, we had just had a safety briefing the day before in which he said he had to know if for example we were on medication which made us sleepy. I thought feeling woozy from giving blood qualified as something he ought to know. I told him I didn’t think I was a danger to myself.

“How about others?” he asked.

“Well, it depends,” I answered. “As long as they don’t piss me off.” So you see, I was feeling more myself.

I’m looking at my word count and see I’ve gone over 800 words. That seems a little long for me, so I’ll stop here. I did have further woozy adventures, though, so tomorrow’s post may be Spectacle II. Stay tuned.