Day 140

I give blood.
My reasons are selfish and are listed as such:
Reason 1 - I get cookies and juice afterwards. That's good enough reason to do many things in life and offering up a vein to sharp metal is one of them.
Reason 2 - It requires zero skill or knowledge for me to do it and the list of actual things I can do for strangers is limited. So it feel good to fulfill a need and I loo for various way of self gratification to get me through any given week.
Reason 3 - Between signing in and getting jabbed, there is a final screening: they take a drop of blood.
A pin pick on the tip of my non-dominant hand's ring finger.
This will be the most anxiety I feel for the remainder of the procedure.
More than the alcohol swab in the crux of my elbow joint. More than the needle invading my flesh. Even more than watching the lifeblood flow from its natural home and go on a journey through clear tubes and end up in a sac.
That first drop is the most frightening.
I will be weighed and measured based upon the smallest part of myself; and the results will determine if my blood is worthwhile.
If I am worthwhile.
Each time I am tested and allowed to pass, I feel a little sigh of relief.
"Tricked them again" I think, before I even know I've thought it.
There really isn't anything wrong with me, besides the usual symptoms accompanying the human condition.
But I still need convincing sometimes.
So each time I give blood, I donate a little piece of doubt first.
I put it into that red droplet, used to measure my worth.
Each time I bleed for strangers, I start by donating doubt.
One day, I hope to run out of doubts to give.
I likely won't, but it's good to relieve the weight a bit.