I used to give regularly until they added something about CJD that prevents me from giving now. Needles don't bother me in the least. A couple of years ago, I had to go to the doctor every morning before work for blood tests for about 8 weeks. I quickly got over any squick I may have had about needles then.

No problem. My own mother can't keep us straight at times (I'm "Kr--athy", and she's "Ka-Kris"), so I definitely don't expect anyone else to! My grandma had it worse, what with 24 grandchildren who seemed to have been born in batches. There were five boys born within a few years of each other, including my brother, so when Gramma would see him, she'd run through the list before finally getting it right. ("Pat? Jim? Tim? Joe? Kip--finally!")

See, I had no problem giving my old kitty Solomon his diabetes shots, but they were subcutaneous and I didn't SEE the needle go in -- fur obscured it.

I can't watch needles on TV. I have to hide my eyes. Scapels, sure. Surgery, blood, guts, no prob.

Teeny needle -- GAH

Don't get me started on the blood donation restrictions.

I hadn't heard they changed their Europe visit guidelines. Now I can resent the ARC a little less, although I don't know if NY has changed its rules.

I hadn't heard they changed their Europe visit guidelines.

Me either. Great. Now I have no excuse but the bizarro reaction I get well after the fact. I'm not that squeamish when it comes to nice, controlled blood cirsumstance. In fact, I used to end up fascinated by the color and flow and whatnot. I just didn't like the feeling like death that would happen 30 minutes after even the smallest draw.

It's strange--I was a typical kid screaming at the very sight of a needle, but I remember going to the doctor's for something or another (maybe the time I swallowed a coin and my mom freaked and had me X-rayed), and watching with complete calm and fascination as the blood went from my arm and up the syringe. Today, I'm not quite as engrossed in watching the needle go in, but once it's there, it's not too bad. I actually like to see how fast I can fill up the plastic bag with my pint--I usually beat out the other donors around me. (I take pride in the little things...)

y grandma had it worse, what with 24 grandchildren who seemed to have been born in batches. There were five boys born within a few years of each other, including my brother, so when Gramma would see him, she'd run through the list before finally getting it right. ("Pat? Jim? Tim? Joe? Kip--finally!")

My grandma had the same thing -- "Har- I mean Ty-, I mean Den-. BOY! come here!"

Chatty!co-worker made me snort with laughter earlier -- we were talking about how it seems weird that the IRA *wasn't* behind this London bombing, when he said "Has anyone considered that it might be more Daleks have gotten loose?"

I actually like to see how fast I can fill up the plastic bag with my pint--I usually beat out the other donors around me.

I try to do that, but I have problem veins and unless the needle strike is just right, my pint fills up slowly. I got stopped one time because I exceeded the time limit for donation.