I’m no longer banned from donating (ie, they believe I don’t have mad cow). My iron levels are excellent. My blood moves sluggishly. I’m afraid to take off the bandage and look at the bruise (I’ll take their word that it bruised). And I feel incrediby drained. So tired, in fact, that I think being punny is a good idea. And I’ll wait until tomorrow to elaborate on the joys of chicken soup with rice.
Sipping chicken soup