I'm one of those people who normally never has a problem with giving blood. I used to do it every six months from the month I could start and I get at least an annual checkup that requires, you guessed it, drawing blood for all those tests that doctors do.
Saturday day was the first time in many, many years I had a botched draw. I think it was somewhere around the third time they had the needle in about two centimeters, swishing it around to look for the vein that they realized that maybe it wasn't going so well. I even got the senior nurse, which was the point I realized I was being a practice dummy. Hrm, I know that feeling.
I got it done, but I also learned that when you fast for 14 hours, one of the cruelest things you can do is walk ten blocks in front of the Quaker Oatmeal factory on a day where they are doing maple and brown sugar. I'd like you to know that I love maple and brown sugar oatmeal.
I know it's important that I do this. With last year's, well, hell, I kind of slipped on my normal schedules. I like going to the dentist every six months and the doctor annually. I like making sure that my internals are checked about as frequently as I change the oil on my car.
In slightly cruder terms, I have to stay around until I can ensure that Fluffy will live in a lifestyle she would like to be accustomed to.