Wilder by Far

A look at life with the Wilder family. Updated most weekends and some vacation days. You can contact me at movingnorth@gmail.com..

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Location: United States

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

"Khan, you bloodsucker. You have to do your own dirty work now, do you hear me?" -The One True Shatner, Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan

Darth Vader reminds you to do your taxes. And buy bonds. And give blood.

The Boy and I went out and about the other day. It was a nice warm day, in the 20’s. But I had a duty to do.

It started with a phone call. The Mrs. answered. “It’s for you. It’s the bloodsuckers.”

Now, when your wife says to you that someone known as the bloodsuckers wants to talk with you, well, that gives you pause.

Who in the heck could it be? Did I borrow Mafia money and then at some point forget that I’d ever borrowed it, and now owed someone named ‘Vito’ $100 at 350% per week interest two decades ago? (Note if you insert “credit card” for “Mafia” and “VISA” for “Vito” it reads about the same.) I picked up the phone gingerly. This might be ugly. The Mrs. generally saves the term “bloodsucker” for lawyers and former Playboy models that go to the Supreme Court. “Hello?”

“Hi. This is the Alaska Blood Bank.” Oh. Those bloodsuckers.

So I made an appointment. Before I hung up I asked . . . “Do you have something for a little boy to do?”

“Oh, yes. We can take care of him.”

I liked the sound of that. Take care of him. Now we were back to Mafia lingo. I would take The Boy in, and they would threaten him, and perhaps make him do drudge work around the hospital for a bit. Yeah, that would show him the world was no creampuff!

Now, I like to donate blood because I like to think that maybe, in some small way I’m helping out. I have friends who build housing in third world countries while on missions, and friends who adopt special needs children, and other friends who assist in bringing charity to the world by donating copiously of their time. Sometimes I feel more than a little inadequate just talking to these folks. The problem is that most of them are genuinely nice and probably way better people than I am. Heck, I don’t even recycle aluminum, and I could get paid for that. So, in my book, giving a bit of blood is the least I could do.

A week later, I got to the blood bank (located in the Fairbanks Hospital) and checked in for my appointment, The Boy in tow. First they had me fill out a form. The Boy looked at the plate of cookies, treats, and juice. Even though he’d just had breakfast, I could see the gears turning.

Then came the part of the blood giving where they ask if I had unprotected intercourse for money with a SARS infested mad cow while injecting illegal substances with a dirty needle while taking Propecia. They have to do this in a separate room, in case I had come in to give blood (for the jillionth time) after knowing all the things that make the giving blood thing a moot point and would be embarrassed to admit about the cow in front of everyone.

“Great,” I think. Now they’ll put The Boy to work, maybe scrubbing toilets with a toothbrush. This will be wonderful.

Nope. They put a video (Monsters, Inc.) on for him. Fed him cookies. Rubbed his tiny feet. Gave him calendars, a nametag, bumper-stickers! They even peeled grapes for him. This was not the “take care of” that I’d envisioned.

While The Boy was in this nirvana of attention, I was hooked up to a machine that patiently sucked my blood out, separated the red part with a centrifuge, and then reinjected the other parts of it back in. I think they took a gallon.

While I was swooning down the hall from my recent exsanguination, on the verge of passing out, The Boy remarked how I should give blood more often.

Maybe I need to get him a VISA.


Blogger GoGo said...

Wait till The Boy (whose hands look oddly like plastic)
finds out about cold hard cash. Cold hard cash for plasma!

May you live long and give blood often.
And may the person who received it just happen upon this blog!

11:53 PM  
Blogger Wild*Hen said...

That boy is so damn witty...he obviously favors his Ma.


1:58 AM  
Blogger The Mayor said...

C'mon, you know you were more embarrassed about the Propecia than the cow!

6:23 AM  
Blogger Al said...

Those "blood sucker" are very devious. They get the boy sugared-up so that he will ask and ask until you return to the delightful place. And since you are there, they will, of course, insert the galvanized pipe and extract the fluid of life. The do have a master plan.

I have never had my feed rubbed even while in the process of being drained of blood.

I need to see this Alaskan process in person.

5:51 PM  
Blogger HP said...

YOu are a good person! Holding down a full time job, being a great dad and hubby AND giving blood. If you still feel inadaquate and/or bad, when the Cancer Society or Paralyzed Veterans come calling, give em a few bucks! (then call it good!)

11:15 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Whatever happened with naming your street? I sometimes wonder about it.

11:31 AM  
Blogger JohnCub said...

Interesting. I went to give blood yesterday. Alas they weren't able to process me because their duplex unit on their printer went bad and the world came crashing in around them. I remember the good old days when they recorded your answers on a piece of paper with a number 2 pencil. We are no longer in those days.

I inquired if they had any consolation prizes, such as a "Kiss me, I triedto give blood" sticker but they had none on hand. Maybe next time.

2:12 PM  
Blogger Woofwoof said...

Hehe you said "intercourse with a mad cow."

Like there is something wrong with it...

7:41 AM  
Blogger John said...

We come from a long line of plastic people. Before then, we were whittled from cedar.

Thank you!

If he doesn't favor her, he at least has a healthy fear of her . . .

To my knowledge, that cow didn't have any. Just me.

They do. And they didn't rub my feet, just his. If they would have hooked him up to the machine, he would have looked like a raisin, but probably wouldn't have sang as well.

Yeah, I know. It's just when I see all these people that should have capes . . . (and sidekicks - maybe I could be a sidekick.)

Still not there yet. As it's still winter, we're all hibernating so I haven't gotten back with the neighbors. This spring . . .

Yeah - technological dependence looks a lot like incompetence when it doesn't work . . .

"Not that there's anything wrong with that . . . "

10:14 AM  
Blogger Duck Hunter said...

I'm not brave enough to give blood. White or red. I'm keeping it.

2:03 PM  

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