Yes, folks, it has been three months and I am officially succumbing to writing on my Xanga yet again. And for all of you who keep pestering to update more often, we'll see. Now that I have all this free time, being out of college and everything.
I made it to Wheaton safely and have been happily situated in the home of Mark and Carol Taylor. Since I am pretty much making up what I want to do with my ministry here in Wheaton, I've had a rougher start than I anticipated. That in some ways has to do with the fact that I don't know any of the kids I am trying to reach out to and that I am doing most of my work out of the Taylor's home. I think they would prefer me to be more mobile and to get into ministry faster, but this kind of thing takes time. I'm sure that by midway through next week I'll be cruising along.
Today I did the unthinkable. I passed the blood iron test at the blood donor bank when I went in to give blood. After so many failed tries, who knew it was possible?? Mr. Taylor was going in to donate so I decided to tag along. I went in a little nervous, but cracking jokes (just like my dad, laugh in the face of fear) to keep my nerves down. I told the lady who was doing the preliminary tests that I had never passed the iron test (after 2 tries while eating fried college food, and once because I had been out of the country only 2 weeks beforehand). So she did that test first. I passed! Not just passed, but I was clearly eating enough iron to stay healthy. I should eat homemade food more often!
The next step was to sit in the chair (further than I've ever gotten before) and choose an arm to stick. I was fine. They were going to do my left arm so I wouldn't lose as much mobility. The technician felt around on my arm for a good minute and looked a little concerned. She mumbled something like "You're still alive, so you must have one in there somewhere" and kept jabbing my arm with her fingers. Finally I couldn't take it anymore and relinquished my other arm to her explorations. On that arm, I have two very distinct veins and I was certain she wouldn't have a problem finding them. She didn't. Yet she thought they were too small to take a donation from. So she called her supervisor over. He, in his Indian accent, said "oh, ya, Sheeee'll do jest fin." She looked at me and I shrugged, saying something about how I've never gotten this far before and no one has ever told me I have small veins. Thus she got everything ready.
She stuck me with the needle and immediately said, "um, I think I missed." What a great thing to tell someone who's a novice at donations! So she dug around in my arm for about fifteen seconds until she got blood to start going into the tubes. Unfortunately, by this time, my arm was beginning to bruise. She said she had never seen anyone bruise that quickly before and stopped moving the needle. Blood continued to move down the tube, but at a rate of about a centimeter a minute and she wasn't satisfied with the speed. The thing wasn't even going fast enough to reach either of the blood sacks. By this time I have four people around me trying to get my blood to come out. Then the supervisor came back around and told the lady not to move the needle anymore because of the bruising. And I couldn't squeeze my hand to get the blood to go faster because that would also cause worse bruising.
The lady looked up at me and said, I think the needle is the same size as your vein. I laughed and said something like, "do you need to try another vein?" and she immediately responded "can we?"
Of course by this time, I'm beginning to get light headed and hear echoes. I must have made a funny face because she said "Corrie, are you alright?" I said "Yeah, just a little light headed." Suddenly, she started calling her observers to get fans and wet washcloths and she moved my seat into a reclining position. I was fully awake, but apparently I turned quite white. Let me tell you, if you ever want attention at a donation center, feign passing out!
The supervisor came back over and said that that vein would not work and when she explained to him that she couldn't find my vein on the other arm, he asked to take a look. All the while, I'm sitting there, trying to smile and singing Christian songs in my head to keep myself from fully passing out.
I agreed that he could look at my other arm and he found a "big one" quickly. It was at a really weird place, though, and in order to reach it, the needle would almost be in the backside of my arm. He asked if he could try again on that vein and I said that I was pretty sure I wouldn't make it through another stabbing and that I would come back another time to give blood after I had recovered.
"Sins you no gif blod todey, you com bok tumaarow and we trey again." I smiled and said I might do that.
I drank a huge glass of water and sat for about ten minutes and then Mr. Taylor took me home. On the way, he said that he had the same lady who was doing me and she was the first one he's ever had who had trouble getting blood out of him and that she wasn't very good. He had hoped I would have had one of the others.
Thus, I still have not donated blood and I don't think I'll be going back to that place in the near future. I'll probably wait for my church's next blood drive and let Vampire Mr. Kimm take my blood.
So for all of you who love me enough to tell me you want to hear about my life, there you have it. As for me, I'm still recovering from the time change (from Indiana to Illinois) and 10:15 is about as late as I am able to stay up. Have a wonderful night, ya'll.
And, my sweet Paulstar Joey, you rock my world. | 
