After a very sour introduction to how things are going to be with the newly-merged United Airlines last night (more on that drama in another post), I'm home again and hanging with my family. It's good to slide right back into the routine of things. That routine includes the visit every eight weeks to the local blood donation center to give a pint or two of whole blood. I did that this morning and The Boy joined me. I want to make it clear, and this is important, that he volunteered and wanted to donate for the first time today.
I was proud of him for doing so. I was too chicken to give blood until I was 35, which is just stupid. Anyway, my 16 year old son stepped up this morning and went for it. His first donation! The staff at the center were totally on their A-game this morning and made him feel totally at ease. He did great! We were enjoying our post-donation snackage of highly-processed sugars and carbs, throwing back the sodas, when The Boy announced he needed to go to the bathroom. He jumped up, made his way to the can, and soon was back at the table in his chair, ready for some more snackage. And then this happened:
He looked at me and said, 'Dad, I don't feel right.' He got a little pale so I made my way over to him and no sooner did I do that, his head slumps back and he's out. I said, in my best "ER" voice, "He's down!" and the staff was there at his side, STAT! (Again, thank you years of TV medical dramas for that!) They got him out of his chair and in about three seconds, had him awake. On went the cold compresses and the blood pressure cuff. Pretty quickly his color was back. They kept him on the ground for awhile and then sat him up. He quickly headed for the floor again. It was clear his body was just a little freaked and was compensating. So after awhile he felt good enough to try standing. He did well. Then he wanted to walk. He didn't do so well and it was back on the ground. At this point, it had been an hour and one of the staff said, 'That's it. We have to call 9-1-1. It's a requirement." So they dialed away and soon the paramedics were there. Now, I've got to say this could not have been good advertising for the blood bank to have the paramedics show up, gurney and all, storming the bank. Again, the staff could not have been more gracious. It was the arrival of the paramedics that seemed to do the trick. They gave him the once over and declared him fine and that it was up to me if I wanted him transported to the hospital. I didn't. At that point, he gets up and he really was fine. With our gift of blood center pajama pants in hand and thanks to the staff, we headed for home.
On the way home, The Boy announced that the sensation of passing out was awesome. Nice. And he'd donate again too. I'm proud of him. I'm even prouder that he decided to do this the day after our new insurance kicked in. Well-timed, man, well-timed.
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