Today I have to get my teeth cleaned.
I'm going to bleed. A lot. My hygienist is brutal with her metal pick and the floss that she snaps into my gums mercilessly. I know that's how she was taught sometime in the 60s, but twelve years into the 21st century, dental professionals advise against snapping the floss until it forcefully cuts your gums. And picking at sensitive, nervy gum lines....
Ohmygosh, peel me OFF the ceiling when that electric shock hits the nerves. I'm sure she removes part of the enamel with that approach.
Friday I'll be eligible to donate blood once again, so if there is a local blood drive going on, I'll be there donating a pint or so of my finest A Positive.
No, I'm not scared. Obviously I don't have a fear of needles. My hesitance to consider a tattoo on a whim is actually a fear of regretting a permanent change to my skin.
Donating blood is just something I do to try to help others. Summertime causes a drop in blood donations anyway, but I intend to keep donating all year now that I'm not having iron deficiencies anymore. (It's the B vitamins -- more red blood cells growing -- my grandmother has pernicious anemia.)
As I've said before, I didn't have enough iron because I didn't have enough red blood cells. No carriers. No wonder i was always so tired. A vampire would have tossed me aside in disgust! But now I've got plenty and I don't eat any more healthily than before though I never got into the iron pills that my doctor told me I should take one week a month.
Isn't it weird that I should look forward to the blood donation (which makes me feel refreshed a couple of days later) and dread my checkup when I have a dentist who is very careful to avoid causing me pain? (He juices me full of laughing gas while he's working on my teeth because he knows that I'll follow orders exactly. I wish I could get that kind of vacancy when his hygienist is flailing my poor gums!)