Vampire Diaries

For some reason I cannot donate blood. Back in 2017 I volunteered but was turned down because I hadn’t been in the country long enough and my last country of residence was Nigeria which is known for malaria.

Fast forward some 2.5 years and I got a notice from the Red Cross that I can now donate blood. In January the Red Cross had a blood donation drive in my office. Three different people attempted to draw blood from both arms. Lucky that I am not squeamish or afraid of needles because the needle they used looked humongous compared to a regular hypodermic needle. After poking both my arms several times without getting any blood to flow into the tube talk-less of the bag, they finally gave up. I joking asked the lady if she’s sure I am alive.

Another 2 months passes and I got another call that they need blood and every “whole blood” (as opposed to plasma for example) donation can potentially help three people. I signed up again and drove to the center the following morning at 10 AM (a Saturday). We basically repeated the same “show” from two months earlier. The youngest person on staff (and I suspect the most junior had a go first). In and out, left and right the needle went, she’s sure she’s in the vein but no blood comes out. She got a little blood into the tube but that was all. Finally she calls her colleague who she says is very good. He too starts on the same arm. I mentioned the January issue and he kind of laughed it off stating they probably just weren’t good enough to make it happen. After a while, his younger colleague suggested he may want to try my other arm as the vein seems to be more “hydrated”

So he switched to the other arm and repeated the same process. Finally he gave up and called the most experienced staff there who I think was the leader as well. She comes and repeats the same process and actually got the flood flowing slowly through the tube but she says at that rate, the device will time out.

I asked if she had any idea what was going on and she said while she’s not certain, it maybe that my platelets are overly aggressive and once the needle goes in, they react and start blocking the ingress point – basically clotting. The lady suggested that if I really wanted to help, seems it appears I can’t donated blood, I could donate my time in other ways such as welcoming people and ensuring they sign in properly when they arrive to donate blood.

I am going to give it one more try and after that if they still can’t get blood out of my veins, I may likely have them take my name off their list.


“Wicked” – “You are wicked.”
Three little words, the longest no more than 6 characters. Combined, the sum of all hope – dashed.

“Time” – I have asked Chronos to raise his hand,
and still the tempest that is time matching on,
sweeping all and sundry before its unseen fury,
and leaving broken limbs and sorrowful hearts in its churning wake.

“Wish” – I have begged Chronos to roll back time
till just before anger wrapped its unreasoning fingers round my delicate brain,
costing me what I had not lost because I did not own,
but sought by words, deeds,
and a certain look in my eyes that I didn’t see
but neither did you till I had wasted 2 months and lost it all.

“Chronos” – But Chronos is the figment of fearful men’s imagination,
who knowing not hat to do with the vagaries of nature,
ascribed power to chimeric figureheads in order to still beating hearts near bursting point.

“Pray” – So I turned to God and prayed,
asking for a miracle of gargantuan girt.
“Selfish request! Pharaoh’s bones long since dissolved to nutrients beneath Jordan’s waves! Does God still harden mortal men’s hearts or soften them because of prayers raised by earthly beings?” screamed the “devil”,
whose name should be spelled in subscript letters to dishonour his base nature, vile and to be reviled till hell freezes over.

“Alas!” – he was right.
Would a mere mortal command God to put love in another’s heart?
Would God deign it fit to answer such a prayer were it said upon bended knees
rubbed raw by rough-edged stones
coated in amber fluidly flowing carrying plasma to replenish the patched earth beneath the scorching Sun?

“Monday” – just like any other day …
But wait! A chance to think less those thoughts
that weigh like leaden weights on burdened brain
and rob the eyes of peaceful sleep.
Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. Saturday. Sunday. Who cares.
Not the man who just lost the family’s food to the one-armed bandit down the road while seeking 3 cherries that unleashes the flood of unlimited income.
Not the fellow dying slowly on the bridge over the River Kwai.
Not the man you smile at.

“Monday” – Just another dreary day in an endless sequence of days in weeks in months in years in wandering the featureless desert of hopelessness by lost souls seeking forgiveness and deliverance where none may be found. Monday.