Unlike for my mother, father, sister, and Ferris lounging in their chairs beside me, looking more like they are suntanning at the beach, giving blood has never been easy for me. My blood pressure is chronically low. Half the time I come here, the staff make me eat crackers and drink a Coke before I can even start, just in case. And my blood, when they can actually get it, so stubbornly refuses to come out of my body it always takes twice as long. Then, of course, there is the ever-present reminder of that one time I passed out afterward. Not that any of these things stops me from donating. No,
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Wtf
