Like a fish...

...I am gutted!
Truly, truly gutted.
I went to give blood yesterday, it was my second time. My first time lasted but minutes because my nerves got the better of me and I got all light headed. But I thought this time would be fine because I felt fine, I wasn't nervous and I had eaten plenty of food and drinks and pounded my body with sugar to counter all the effects. And everything was going fine, until something went wrong with the cradle that the blood sits in. I think that was the problem because a nurse was messing with it, then asked for help and I started to get foggy here. Because I couldn't see the problem I then pictured myself bleeding all over the floor and imagining a pint sized puddle of blood, it's not a small thing.
I thought I could fight it and I told them I was fine, but the sweat on my brow told a different story.
Tragic. And I was so close to the full pint of blood too.
I like being a minority, but I don't want to be in this one. The one where 2% of people who give blood, their body can't adapt quickly enough the the sudden blood loss. It blows.
But I had a great chat with a few nurses, talking about loads of things like holidays, university, life and other such things. Two were red heads, and they talked to me as if I was one of their own, excellent stuff.
We talked about blood too. How I had done everything right with eating and drinking and all that, and that being young may be the problem. Body still undergoing changes and all that jazz. I'm advised to try again in a few years, or whenever I feel up to it, and I have until I am seventy.
I'm assured there is no rush, but I want to do this so badly. I want nothing more to help others. Just like when I see a fire truck or something, the urge to have a job like that is a strong one. It's not as selfless as one would think because I think some of it is selfishness too, I want to be seen as a hero, I want to be the face that the person sees on the worst day of their life.
But alas, I cannot save lives with my blood.
A real shame, and the nurses agree. They weren't pissy this time, they were proud of me for trying again and not just thinking it wasn't for me. And there is still time and hope.
If not, it's going to suck to have a head that can give blood but a body that cannot.

Family is all back. As I thought, I am glad to have life in the house but I am annoyed that I can't just roll out of bed and put a horror on.
To celebrate the end of the holiday we went out for a curry. Not wise since they owe me two hundred pounds as they ran out of cash and I had to bail them out, once again. I have lost count of the time I have borrowed them money, I'm sure the roles here have been reversed.
Curry though, I wasn't feeling it. I have had six in the last seven days: two pasanders, beef curry, vegetable balti, mexican curry and last nights garlic chili.
What can I say, I love the spicy food and it's all I wanted after Greece as their food may be great but it has no heat.
The beer almost killed me though, I thought that maybe having 10% less blood would make getting pissed 10% easier, but it would seem it is more exponential, which makes sense thinking about it.
Then I had tooth ache which means I may get a wisdom tooth in the next few years. So obviously I ate a bag of Haribo, the clever thing to do.