Today sucked

Dear Diary,
                  For me, today absolutely sucked.
Some days suck because things don't go your way and you're down on your luck.
This day was entirely my fault.

And everyone was so nice about it. People were polite the entire day through.
They had their smiles on their faces and were positive too.
I helped put up Christmas decorations, I put tinsel on windows
I got my hair braided by a girl I didn't previously know.
Most of these people didn't know the choice I had made.
I am thankful for all of them. But my day still sucked.

I walked slowly into the clean and sterile room.
I was told to read leaflets I had read 3 times before coming here.
Told to drink pleasantly sweet squash, a slightly different brand to the one I had been drinking all day.
I was quizzed as to which countries I had been to in the last year, and I felt like a jet-setter.
     I travelled further last year than I had ever travelled before.
I was quizzed about my medications. I couldn't remember the name of one.
     I ignored the part of my brain desperately giving me an "out".
     I looked up my surgery number online, and they gave me the information.
     The key to going one step further.
They told me I had passed. Yay.

Everytime I said I was nervous, someone comforted me.
Especially when the women took a blood sample from my finger.
I didn't realise pain could feel both electric and mechanical at the same time.
The sterile room was quite small.
A kindly man laid me down, and made conversation that wasn't forced.
Each step was small. To turn at any point would have been a bigger step.

I laid down.

The man brandished an instrument. It cleaned my arm. For around 30 seconds.
I was asked if I'd like to find out if I was eligible for a platelet donation. It's only one more needle.
I declined. It was a small step. The coward that I am likes small steps.
    The next step only required me not to move.
I made sure I was looking the other way.
The pain was not short. Even though I was told my vein was easy to find.
I had been told to ball up my hand. I could feel the stiffness in my forearm.
    I looked. After around five minutes, I looked. And took a picture.
    My static arm shows no cowardice in that picture.

Instead, I seem brave. Just like I did when I signed up in under ten minutes.
Just like the friends I had chatted to before, for whom it was no big deal.
Or the people in the room there with me.
Either side of me, a father and son donated. It was the son's fifth time. The father, many more.
For so many, this is a simple step.
I am not one of many.
When the machine mercifully beeped as my arm went cold.
I required half an hour longer to rise, due to feeling faint.
     Indicating I am one of the less than 2% of people to whom this happens.
And I left. A bandage to my arm and memories in my head.

Dear Diary,
                For me, today absolutely sucked.
Dear Diary,
                For someone else, today sucked a lot less.
Dear Diary,
                Today was one of the few days in my life I managed to make not about me.
Dear Diary,
                Today sucked. But it was a good day.


sign up at blood.co.uk
It's easy, simple, and for most people, is completely fine.