The Day I Ate Breakfast. And Wore Pants.

As the elevator made its way down to the lobby of my building, my stomach churned, my hands got clammy and for a second I considered getting straight back on the elevator on the first floor and going back upstairs.

But I didn't

Instead I forced my feet to move, and pointed them in the direction of the blood drive registration table, set up in a corner of the gargantuan lobby and sectioned off by blue fabric curtains.

"Have you ever given blood before?" asked the volunteer manning the table.

"Yes, once," I replied, trying to convey through the desperate tone of my voice and a wild look in my eye the absolute horror of that particular situation.

I filled out the paperwork and sat down to wait, wondering all the while how I managed to get myself into this situation a second time. I was working at a different law firm in a different building with different colleagues, but the result was strikingly similar. Me, volunteering to give blood in solidarity with the other lawyers.

I tried to calm my racing heart by thinking about all the ways that this time was different from the last time. I was six years older. I spent the day hydrating. I ate breakfast and then a great lunch at a firm event, complete with one whole cupcake and the frosting from a second. No way would it happen again.

But the voices of my demons shouted and I was considering conceding defeat and heading back up to my office when they called my name.

I climbed awkwardly into the chair that the nurse pointed to, and waited again while she tended to a few other donors. My forty story building housed no fewer than two other law firms and offices for two major financial institutions and the lobby was teeming with people heading towards the Starbucks on the far end for their afternoon caffeine jolt to push through the last hours of the workday.

If something embarrassing happened, it wouldn't be just the few lawyers from my firm that would see, but the whole damn building.

But nothing would happen, I promised myself. Willed myself to believe. Last time was a fluke. A one time freak occurrence brought on by too much stress and not enough food.

I could do it this time.

Fueled by positive thinking and the promise of juice and all the Oreos I could eat once it was over, I extended my arm, and was once again hooked up by a nurse with a bright smile and a sunny disposition.

I was still connected to the bag when I heard the familiar buzzing in my ears and a wave of nausea once again knocked me back in my chair. This time the nurse was right there, and flew straight into action. She shoved a bottle of juice into my hand and swung the top of the chair down and the bottom half up as she unhooked me from the machine.

And as I once again laid, covered in ice packs with my legs straight up in the air and passersby gawking, all I could think was, at least this time I'm wearing pants.

Believe it or not this story happened a mere thirteen days
ago in the lobby of the building in which I now sit.

Click here for some photo evidence of the occasion.

And, if you are so inclined, head on over and read my piece
from last week's Yeah Write where I wrote about my other
unfortunately hilarious experience with blood donation.