AP Panther Fan
03-21-2005, 05:22 PM
This guy is really funny, just hope I am not infringing on any of his rights by posting this here...:cool:
Giving Blood
Copyright 2005 W. Bruce Cameron http://www.wbrucecameron.com/
I've never donated blood to any organization before, preferring to
leave it inside my body so the mosquitoes know where to find it. The
idea that there are hospitals and charities and relief
organizations--really, a whole industry--dedicated to sucking blood
out of people frankly makes me want to hold a cross in front of me and
go to sleep wearing a necklace of garlic every night.
Oddly, I often have the same reaction to Peter Jennings.
But then an appeal from the Red Cross made me change my mind about
the whole thing, because with so many demands being made on the blood
supply from so many directions, they give free cookies.
I showed up at the blood donation center feeling a little nervous.
My anxiety only increased when I saw the ambulance parked as a
precaution near the front door and the half dozen people milling
around wearing white coats. With all these emergency medical
personnel in the area, I worried they might have already run out of
chocolate chip.
I don't know what I expected. I suppose I thought that draining a
person's circulatory system would be similar to changing the oil in an
automobile. But the whole thing starts with a questionnaire, wherein
they gather your entire medical history. Apparently they need to be
very particular about sharing blood, so that, for example, a
Sagittarius only receives blood from a Sagittarius, and a narcoleptic
never gets a donation from an insomniac, lest he wind up a person who
is always falling asleep, but can't.
The medical technician assigned to help me with the questionnaire
pulled out his clipboard and regarded me professionally. "Now, Mr.
Cameron, first question: Are you feeling healthy today?"
"No, not really," I responded truthfully.
"Oh?" He tapped his pen on the paper. "What's wrong?"
"I've sort of been low on sugar," I told him mournfully, glancing
meaningfully at the table where they kept the cookies. "Plus I'm
worried I might have something seriously wrong with my pancreas."
"Your...pancreas? Why do you say that?" he asked.
"Well, I've had everything else tested," I explained. "So I figure
it must be the pancreas."
"Hmm...are you under the care of a doctor?"
"Oh, yes!" I informed him brightly. "I talk to the doctor nearly
every day!"
"What does he say?"
"He says not to call him so much," I replied.
"I meant about your pancreas. Does he agree?" the technician
elaborated.
"Oh, yes, of course. Well, not totally. Actually, no. But it is my
body, after all. I feel like I should know what's going on with it,"
I affirmed.
"You can feel it?" he pressed.
"Of course! It's right here." I showed him where I often had
pancreatic fits and spasms.
"That's actually your liver, Mr. Cameron."
"Oh." I laughed lightly. "Here?"
"Kidney," he responded, shaking his head.
"More here."
"That's your heart."
"Well, anyway, my doctor hasn't yet come up with a successful
treatment," I continued.
"I see." He frowned at his clipboard.
"Do you think maybe we'd be more comfortable conducting this
interview at the cookie table?" I suggested.
"Okay, other than the pancreas issue, you feel fine?" he inquired
hopefully.
"Oh, no. I need to see an ear, nose and throat specialist," I
advised.
"How come?"
"For my ear, nose and throat," I said simply.
"I see. Well, we'll take your temperature in a minute, and if that's
normal, we'll go ahead and answer this question 'yes'," he decided.
"Is that alright with you?"
"I often run fevers that don't register on the thermometers," I
warned him.
"They don't...register?" he repeated.
"The medical name for them is 'stealth fevers'," I informed the
technician. "Well, at least, that's what I call them. My doctor is
very concerned. He has me e-mail him every time I get one, no matter
what time of day or night. I used to just call, but he says e-mail is
better."
"Ah." The technician looked a bit distressed, perhaps worried I
might be contagious.
"You seem a little down," I told him. "Would a cookie help?"
"No," he sighed resignedly. "It's just that I suddenly realized
something awful." He raised his eyes sadly to mine. "This is just
the first question. I've got 32 more."
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++++
For reprint permission, including web sites, please write me at
Bruce@wbrucecameron.com
This newsletter may be distributed freely via e-mail but you MUST
include the following subscription and copyright information:
The Cameron Column, A Free Internet Newsletter
Copyright W. Bruce Cameron 2005 http://www.wbrucecameron.com/
Yes we want more subscribers! Please tell your friends about the
Cameron Column.
Giving Blood
Copyright 2005 W. Bruce Cameron http://www.wbrucecameron.com/
I've never donated blood to any organization before, preferring to
leave it inside my body so the mosquitoes know where to find it. The
idea that there are hospitals and charities and relief
organizations--really, a whole industry--dedicated to sucking blood
out of people frankly makes me want to hold a cross in front of me and
go to sleep wearing a necklace of garlic every night.
Oddly, I often have the same reaction to Peter Jennings.
But then an appeal from the Red Cross made me change my mind about
the whole thing, because with so many demands being made on the blood
supply from so many directions, they give free cookies.
I showed up at the blood donation center feeling a little nervous.
My anxiety only increased when I saw the ambulance parked as a
precaution near the front door and the half dozen people milling
around wearing white coats. With all these emergency medical
personnel in the area, I worried they might have already run out of
chocolate chip.
I don't know what I expected. I suppose I thought that draining a
person's circulatory system would be similar to changing the oil in an
automobile. But the whole thing starts with a questionnaire, wherein
they gather your entire medical history. Apparently they need to be
very particular about sharing blood, so that, for example, a
Sagittarius only receives blood from a Sagittarius, and a narcoleptic
never gets a donation from an insomniac, lest he wind up a person who
is always falling asleep, but can't.
The medical technician assigned to help me with the questionnaire
pulled out his clipboard and regarded me professionally. "Now, Mr.
Cameron, first question: Are you feeling healthy today?"
"No, not really," I responded truthfully.
"Oh?" He tapped his pen on the paper. "What's wrong?"
"I've sort of been low on sugar," I told him mournfully, glancing
meaningfully at the table where they kept the cookies. "Plus I'm
worried I might have something seriously wrong with my pancreas."
"Your...pancreas? Why do you say that?" he asked.
"Well, I've had everything else tested," I explained. "So I figure
it must be the pancreas."
"Hmm...are you under the care of a doctor?"
"Oh, yes!" I informed him brightly. "I talk to the doctor nearly
every day!"
"What does he say?"
"He says not to call him so much," I replied.
"I meant about your pancreas. Does he agree?" the technician
elaborated.
"Oh, yes, of course. Well, not totally. Actually, no. But it is my
body, after all. I feel like I should know what's going on with it,"
I affirmed.
"You can feel it?" he pressed.
"Of course! It's right here." I showed him where I often had
pancreatic fits and spasms.
"That's actually your liver, Mr. Cameron."
"Oh." I laughed lightly. "Here?"
"Kidney," he responded, shaking his head.
"More here."
"That's your heart."
"Well, anyway, my doctor hasn't yet come up with a successful
treatment," I continued.
"I see." He frowned at his clipboard.
"Do you think maybe we'd be more comfortable conducting this
interview at the cookie table?" I suggested.
"Okay, other than the pancreas issue, you feel fine?" he inquired
hopefully.
"Oh, no. I need to see an ear, nose and throat specialist," I
advised.
"How come?"
"For my ear, nose and throat," I said simply.
"I see. Well, we'll take your temperature in a minute, and if that's
normal, we'll go ahead and answer this question 'yes'," he decided.
"Is that alright with you?"
"I often run fevers that don't register on the thermometers," I
warned him.
"They don't...register?" he repeated.
"The medical name for them is 'stealth fevers'," I informed the
technician. "Well, at least, that's what I call them. My doctor is
very concerned. He has me e-mail him every time I get one, no matter
what time of day or night. I used to just call, but he says e-mail is
better."
"Ah." The technician looked a bit distressed, perhaps worried I
might be contagious.
"You seem a little down," I told him. "Would a cookie help?"
"No," he sighed resignedly. "It's just that I suddenly realized
something awful." He raised his eyes sadly to mine. "This is just
the first question. I've got 32 more."
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++++
For reprint permission, including web sites, please write me at
Bruce@wbrucecameron.com
This newsletter may be distributed freely via e-mail but you MUST
include the following subscription and copyright information:
The Cameron Column, A Free Internet Newsletter
Copyright W. Bruce Cameron 2005 http://www.wbrucecameron.com/
Yes we want more subscribers! Please tell your friends about the
Cameron Column.