I headed over to Florida Blood Services after work today to drain a vein.

I’m trying to get in sync with the Bloodmobile visiting Moffitt, but I’m still off by about two weeks. Boo.

I offered my standard warning as I sat in the chair. Miniscule veins + low blood pressure = a long time in the chair. Not good.

As soon as they stuck my arm, I peered at the snakelike plastic tubes burrowing below the chair to the bag.

I spied one drop.

I had a cuff snug around my arm, and I was squeezing a foam baseball every few seconds. The crimson trickled by.

”Is she going?” one technician asked the other.

”Yeah. But she’s not winning any marathons.”

Ouch.

I felt even worse for the guy sitting next to me.

They stuck one arm. Nothing. They stuck the other arm. Nada.

A different technician stuck him a third time. Bingo!

He had two people working on him, holding and adjusting the needle and monitoring the bag on a scale.

He slowly got going for a bit but then fizzled. And he actually took longer than I did!

I managed to eke out of the chair in just over 20 minutes. Nothing short of a miracle.

”I’m sorry. At least you tried,” I told him. ”I’ve never met anyone who’s slower than I am, so congratulations!”

He laughed.

Hey, I found out I’m a 2-gallon donor! I’m impressed.