Monday, August 25, 2008

My Heart Beats for . . .

So, I was telling this story to my roomies, and they convinced me to write it for the rest of you to read.

I met this boy, we'll call him Mitch, at a singles activity up the canyon. We played ping-pong for quite awhile, exchanged phone numbers, and that was that. He called me a few days later, and we talked for awhile. He then proceeded to invite me to come donate blood at a blood drive that he was in charge of.

I was diligent that day--eating and drinking as one should if they are going to donate blood. It was nothing new, as I've donated blood several times. In college, ARUP used to call me to come donate because I have "baby blood," which apparently means I don't have an antibody to something, I can't remember. ANYWAY, so I this was not the first time I'd been pricked for a cause.

When I arrived, I filled out all the paperwork, chatted with Mitch, and waited. Then, they took my blood pressure and pulse. Blood pressure, check. It was fine. Pulse . . . well, this is where it gets interesting and a little bit funny. They said that I couldn't donate because my pulse was beating too fast. Yeah, it slowed down, but by then I was so embarrassed that I quickly took my stuff and left.

Moral of the story? Don't try to donate blood when talking with someone you potentially like. . .

1 comment:

Kristin said...

That's so funny! Youshould have told themyou were nervous about doanting, then still donate! Ihope all your phone issues are being worked out also!