needle to the vein

So, there's a stem-cell research program at one of the many local hospitals that will pay a person $150 for a little bit of their bone marrow. This morning, Hardy and I went to get some blood drawn so they could test to see if we qualify.

I've never donated blood before, and I remember when I was a small child the doctor pricked my finger and I puked, but I feel I've outgrown that, and the thought doesn't particularly bother me. I didn't look at the needle going into my arm, but turned to watch as the lady filled the second of 3 finger-long vials with my redstuff. All of a sudden, I broke a sweat and started seeing stars. I was queasy and dizzy. Deasy and quizzy. She gave me a glass of ginger ale, and let me put my head down for a bit. My blood pressure was lower than normal: 100/60. I chilled for a couple minutes, and then finally felt well enough to get up and wait for Hardy to finish dealing with, seemingly, the same symptoms.

I don't know if I'm just a pussy, or what. I do know that if I had to go donate a pint of blood, I would be passed the fork out. Maybe it was my lack of sleep or food, or maybe the lady stuck the needle too far in, or perhaps it was some sort of subconscious psychogenic response...

So, I'm real excited about getting a needle into my hip-bone. Ugh.