Today started off pretty normally. Did school with Jasper, and got some sewing done on his cloak while he was doing his math.
Lina and I had plan. The plan was to head out right after lunch and see if we could donate plasma. A plasma donation center has recently opened up in our town, and it had occurred to me that this might be a way that I could make some money to save up for traveling, especially since my tutoring prospects fell through.
There are three trips I want to take this year. Two I consider “mandatory” and one just extremely desirable. The mandatory ones are probably going to happen one way or another, even if we have to make serious sacrifices in other areas. But I really, really want to go on the third trip, and with our reduced income there is simply no way unless I find a way to make the money.
I thought donating plasma was my answer. Getting approved is an arduous process. First, you fill out paperwork. Then you wait. Then you fill out more paperwork, and get your veins tested. Then you get your picture taken and your fingerprints scanned. The scanner hated my fingerprints. It took dozens of tries. Then you go to a “kiosk” where you fill out a very lengthy health survey.
In my case, I couldn’t take the survey because the machine wouldn’t accept my fingerprints. So I had to go back through that whole process, after running my hands under hot water and putting lotion on them. Then I was sent running back to the kiosk to do the questionnaire before my fingerprints faded again. I got into the questionnaire this time, and got all the way through it and the one after it before waiting some more.
Then I got my blood tested (A-OK) and my blood pressure taken. I was a little nervous about the blood pressure, but it was fine. Then more waiting. Finally I was taken back into a private room with a nurse who asked me about what medications I was on. I told her (blood pressure and diabetes meds). And that’s when I found out that I can never, ever donate plasma because I take insulin. The whole process took over three hours!
I was so frustrated and discouraged. By the time I got the bad news, Lina was already being prepped to be “stuck,” so I asked the nurse to get the car keys so I could go out to the car and feel sorry for myself. It was a long hour and a half waiting for Lina to be done. There were tears. It is hard when you have that tiny spark of hope and it gets snuffed out. I thought I had found a way to make that third trip happen. And I really think the plasma place should have stated right up front, in the initial information they make you read, that you can’t donate if you are diabetic. *sigh* As with every rejection, I give myself one day to mourn and then move on.