"Looking For Your Fingerprints..."
Apr. 11th, 2009 11:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
So here's a funny story. I went to give blood on Wednesday and was deferred because my pulse was a hundred and twelve. This isn't hugely high, but the cutoff for blood donation is one-hundred and a 'normal' pulse rate would be about eighty. So, too high. But I remembered that I had only had caffeine/diuretic to drink that day and figured that was the problem and whatever.
Thursday I read in the paper that there was a blood drive on Friday in McAllistairville, so I went to that, & made sure to drink plenty of water and eat breakfast and dinner so that my iron would be nice and high. And they went to take my pulse and it was... a hundred and four. Whut. So I did deep breathing exercises for ten minutes and it came down to ninety-eight and I donated. Okay so that worked.
I have given blood four or five times before, and I have never, ever suffered any side effects, which has always made me a little sad, since I am a hypochondriac and love to get dizzy and have always dreamed of fainting or something some day. But I'm always perfectly fine, despite the fact that after donating blood I usually bicycle into town for a psych appointment. But Friday all day I was SO DIZZY and I lost all colour in my cheeks, and every time I sat down and then stood up again I would get starbursts in my vision so badly I couldn't see, which typically occurs when I am suffering low blood pressure (which I do have). And I was DIZZY. And I slept three hours in the middle of the day and still was completely exhausted. But I thought hey, whatever, first time for everything, and then I realised I had just walked up the stairs and my pulse was racing at a hundred and twenty-five (Mama took it). WHAT. That is ridiculous. And it finally came down to eighty this evening, but it has generally been really high this weekend, and I'm kind of baffled.
DIAGNOSE ME, INTERNETS.
In other news, we baked cookies and made a cake and dyed eggs and had hysterics, it was beautiful. Mama tried to put neatsfoot oil in the egg dye instead of vinegar, and the cookies swelled up into gigantic balloons of crazy, and the cake was one of those ones where you bake two halves and then glue them together with icing, and it kept trying to split down the middle, and it is so full of toothpicks right now that if someone unsuspectingly bites into it an unpleasant and pointy surprise will be waiting. But we decorated the church with hyacinth and forsythia and daffodils and narcissus and little orange tulips and those giant easter lillies, and phlox and warm wishes and lots of ribbon from my collection. Holy Saturday is my favourite day of Easter Week, I think. There is so much preparation to be done. The first Holy Saturday would have been such a day of mourning, a terrible quiet day after the most important thing had died and there was only silence and the great pervasive realisation of loss, but in this day and age, when we know Easter will come to-morrow, it has transformed from a day of grief to a day of anticipation, and we make bouquets and beautiful food and prepare ourselves for the joyous thing we'll be waking to. We wash each other on Maundy Thursday, we grieve on Good Friday, and on Holy Saturday we prepare--and then Easter comes and we have our arms full of the sum of all our hope. All of the days are important, but I really do love Holy Saturday so much.
I'm early, so I won't say Alleluia yet, but--Christ is coming.
Thursday I read in the paper that there was a blood drive on Friday in McAllistairville, so I went to that, & made sure to drink plenty of water and eat breakfast and dinner so that my iron would be nice and high. And they went to take my pulse and it was... a hundred and four. Whut. So I did deep breathing exercises for ten minutes and it came down to ninety-eight and I donated. Okay so that worked.
I have given blood four or five times before, and I have never, ever suffered any side effects, which has always made me a little sad, since I am a hypochondriac and love to get dizzy and have always dreamed of fainting or something some day. But I'm always perfectly fine, despite the fact that after donating blood I usually bicycle into town for a psych appointment. But Friday all day I was SO DIZZY and I lost all colour in my cheeks, and every time I sat down and then stood up again I would get starbursts in my vision so badly I couldn't see, which typically occurs when I am suffering low blood pressure (which I do have). And I was DIZZY. And I slept three hours in the middle of the day and still was completely exhausted. But I thought hey, whatever, first time for everything, and then I realised I had just walked up the stairs and my pulse was racing at a hundred and twenty-five (Mama took it). WHAT. That is ridiculous. And it finally came down to eighty this evening, but it has generally been really high this weekend, and I'm kind of baffled.
DIAGNOSE ME, INTERNETS.
In other news, we baked cookies and made a cake and dyed eggs and had hysterics, it was beautiful. Mama tried to put neatsfoot oil in the egg dye instead of vinegar, and the cookies swelled up into gigantic balloons of crazy, and the cake was one of those ones where you bake two halves and then glue them together with icing, and it kept trying to split down the middle, and it is so full of toothpicks right now that if someone unsuspectingly bites into it an unpleasant and pointy surprise will be waiting. But we decorated the church with hyacinth and forsythia and daffodils and narcissus and little orange tulips and those giant easter lillies, and phlox and warm wishes and lots of ribbon from my collection. Holy Saturday is my favourite day of Easter Week, I think. There is so much preparation to be done. The first Holy Saturday would have been such a day of mourning, a terrible quiet day after the most important thing had died and there was only silence and the great pervasive realisation of loss, but in this day and age, when we know Easter will come to-morrow, it has transformed from a day of grief to a day of anticipation, and we make bouquets and beautiful food and prepare ourselves for the joyous thing we'll be waking to. We wash each other on Maundy Thursday, we grieve on Good Friday, and on Holy Saturday we prepare--and then Easter comes and we have our arms full of the sum of all our hope. All of the days are important, but I really do love Holy Saturday so much.
I'm early, so I won't say Alleluia yet, but--Christ is coming.
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Date: 2009-04-12 03:48 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2009-04-12 04:02 am (UTC)Also, do be well! *hugs*
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Date: 2009-04-12 04:08 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2009-04-12 06:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2009-04-12 06:45 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2009-04-12 07:36 am (UTC)♥
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Date: 2009-04-12 12:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2009-04-12 03:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:Hee.
Date: 2009-04-13 03:50 am (UTC)...Except for smallpox. Smallpox we blame on the plague.
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