coexistapart's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- blood, it's in you to give Forgive me, I need a moment to whine. Honest to goodness, I cannot tell what has been up with my emotions lately. When I say "lately" I probably have to qualify that as being the better part of a year, but I really do not know because I have not been keeping close track. Is it simply just that either in spite of, or because of, many years on the Marvelon, I now suffer worse PMS then I ever remember in the past? Is it because I am older, and slightly healthier, so my hormones are more in balance (usually) making certain periods of fluctuation more pronounced? Is it because the past year "off" has been such a waste that it makes me doubt myself constantly? Or is it simply that life has good and sweet to me the past several years, no abusive mother, less sadness about my father, and so with no hard knocks to life, everything tiny that shouldn't botherme does? Instead of taking a country-living "these things will happen, (nothing you can do but move on)" everything feels like a personal attack, when clearly it is not. That being said, I will say it is easier to make a mole hill into a mountain without a little church thrown into the mix; but at the present, that is not something I want to deal with. (That is a whole separate entry.) I feel the pressure not to go to church when I am here with Big because I know it causes him to confront his own issues with religion--namely that it is not important in his life, meanwhile his younger son Emmanuel is very committed, enough that I suspect he will one day go down the path to ministry within the evangelical movement. My own thoughts about religion are clearly complex, but when it comes to the presence of a church in my own life, it has to do with support and community. It never felt like I was force fed things I did not believe, and I saw many good people and good practices come out of a healthy, vibrant church growing up. Now, granted, the church across the street on Sonoma Springs was a little bit more touchy-feely modern (or less stoic, as the case may be) than I was accustomed to, but the Pastor was trained at Princeton and he clearly enjoyed what he did. Some weeks it was a struggle for me to get in the door being an unknown face, and knowing that I would be an unknown face considering that my plans would be short-term, but I enjoyed it despite the problems it would cause at 10:30am. Back to my original point. I woke up this morning and went out on my own; I like to get out at weekends, Big likes to stay in because he has been at work all week. If we do not recognise each other's needs, it makes for an unpleasant day. I go to the farmer's market before heading to the local Harley-Davidson to give blood. Now the stupid thing that shows you up front that I am being a baby is that there is a blood services clinic on N Telshor, across from Sam's Club and my preferred post office, a place I drive past AT LEAST 2 times per week when I am here. In the past I have not gone in to give blood because Big made it into this big thing how in America people are paid to give blood, and there is a stygma surrounding the practice. Whatever. Initially I did put it off because I do not have a local ID, but generally I have come to learn that this state is so full of both Snow Birds and Mexicans that people do not really care except to ask you how you like it here versus back home. So on the radio all week they have had news of a massive blood drive for the summer sponsored by Harley; apparently nearly one quarter of all blood comes from hs donations, and with kids out for the summer and everyone else on vacation, donations drop while need correspondingly increases. I have been meaning to get on a proper blood donation schedule, in an intangible way, for quite some time now. Growing up, my mother was the legal counsel for the Canadian Red Cross--until the end of the Kreaver Inquiry; consequently my dad did his duty and went in to give blood every 51 days. In freshman year, we all made fun of my roommate Simone for passing out after giving blood--she often skipped meals in a bid to lose weight; in hindsight, we were the dumb and cruel ones because she walked herself to a clinic and at least did something we never attempted to do. Something absurd like only 3% of the general population gives blood, and nearly everyone will need a transfusion during their lifetime. Alex, at Posh, used to joke "it's in you to KEEP!" In response to a very prevalent donor ad Blood Services produced during their post-Canadian Blood Scandal ressurection.
Thankfully, in theory, she says that as soon as it is visibly gone, I can go back to their regular clinic to donate; same thing if I was turned away for having a cold or flu. It just made me very upset. I tried not to be--I mean I thought, going in it was 50/50 that I was going to be rejected anyway; I did not cry, but by that point I had given up thinking I would be rejected because why would she even bother to test my blood? You have to understand that my mother had Hepatitis and herpes; I have been getting cold sores since I was three years-old. I understand the stigma, and I am pretty at peace with the whole thing--I pay thousands for Valtrex, wear tinted lipgloss, and try to get on with my life, but it's hard. I am not promiscuous, I have had one partner my whole life; I don't do drugs, or go out of ny way to pick up communicable diseases. I understood that this blood goes to patients with a fragile hold on life, who need clean blood without impurities to help them live, but it's just so routinely embarassing when I have done NOTHING whatsoever and this sort of thing comes up. In the end it will be fine. I should be able to go later this week; it wasn't about the goody bag they had at Harley--I was just too upset to stop and take one. I just need to get on with my day.... It's going to be a scorcher: it was 90F when I left at 9:30am. I saw a couple of charity car washes, pick up some photos for Juanita of baby Gavin at Target, milk & cream at Sam's, and maybe I will even go to the sketchy Mexican flea market up the road. The day is hardly lost--I mean I am having a nice coffee in the courtyard by the fountain at International Delights, but my ego is slightly bruised; I should go home and bake for the soldiers is what I should do. 10:59 a.m. - 2009-06-13 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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