Okay, this is a quickie, and not all that funny, but read it anyway.

All my life, I’ve hated shots, injections, inoculations,vaccinations, anything that pierced my skin, good for me or not. I can’t even stand to see someone else getting a shot, injection, inoculation . . . well, you know. Watching doctor shows on TV involves a good deal of blinking when the syringes show up, and tattoo parlors definitely don’t have to worry about me darkening their doors.

For years my husband, an all-around good guy, donated blood just because it seemed like a good thing to do. Not my thing. I went to the Red Cross building with him, and waited in the little canteen area, chomping on free cookies and juice (by invitation, really!) and carefully avoiding the area where folks stretched out on strange looking chaise longues and had their vital fluids extracted.

Then one day, a doctor I’d never met before suggested that if we wanted to keep our mother around for a while she needed to have the aortic valve in her heart replaced. He also mentioned that it would be a good idea to start an account at our local blood bank. It’s funny, but a tiny little thing like that can be an awfully convincing argument for blood donation. After the first time, I was hooked.

I don’t know what the trigger will be for you, but I hope it’s soon and I hope it keeps prodding you to give blood regularly. It’s easy (this from a confirmed needle-phobiac) and it’s so important. I don’t feel noble donating these days, which I try to do about every two months, but I do feel wonderfully fulfilled, knowing that my half-hour at the Red Cross can save three lives.

Can SAVE THREE LIVES. Isn’t that a beautiful phrase? If there are any smiles in this little post, they’ll be on my face if I find out anyone else finds the whole idea as marvelous as I do–finally.

I’ll see you again, after the commercial.