I have just returned, triumphant, from the Red Cross. Advances in technology provided for me a little hand warmer in preparation of the telling needle prick, but I don't think I needed it. The few drops of blood from my would-be wedding ring finger came in at 14.2 on the hemoglobin machine. Success.
The woman in the donation room knew a professional when she saw one. I disobeyed her request to look the other way when she slipped the needle in the old vein and filled the pint sack in under five minutes. A record, she says. Any faster and she might have hit an artery.
I have neglected to make valentines cards, and I don't imagine there will be any wine or ballet or record playing this year. No Bobby Vee singing from the other room as I take my shower. But I suppose I still wanted a valentine, so I've given my blood to a stranger. Happy Valentine's Day, whoever you may be.
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