Give 'Til It Hurts, Part 2

A few days after donating blood, Sarah from the Red Cross called me to tell me that my platelets count was high. Of course, my first thought was that I had cancer (or possibly Chagas disease, which I am inordinately concerned about). But no, I was assured this is actually a good thing. It made sense when I remembered what platelets actually do (I've never been much of a bleeder).

Day before yesterday I headed out to Red Cross Headquarters (a Masonic looking monstrosity near Foggy Bottom) to submit myself to apheresis. Have you ever read "The Martian Chronicles"? I read it back in third grade, but I remember there was a machine the Martians used to clean the blood that involved removing it all with a futuristic "machine," cleaning it and then putting it all back in. Apheresis is remarkably similar.

I was given the option of one needle or two (one in either arm), and referencing back to my previous post, my choice was obvious. It's never reassuring to me when they have to mark the vein with pen like a target. It strikes me that they're going to try and hit it from ten paces or some such thing.

I'm still not exactly sure how blood is removed from my vein and returned through the same needle (minus platelets), but I suppose I don't need to know. It involves three tubes and a gray plastic box that emits Apple II-esque beeps when it's hungry for my blood. The craziest part is that the blood loses heat while it's outside of the body. The effect is something close to refrigeration, like getting a Jello to set.

It took about an hour and a half, but they gave me a choice of movies. I chose "Young Frankenstein," which now that I think of it was an odd pick. They told me to avoid heavy lifting, so I limited it to lifting beers.