I went off to give plasma. Foolishly, I did not bring a reading book. Also foolishly, when the one girl went to stick me and I knew that she does not know my veins, I did not request someone else to stick me. So she stuck me and I held my star and she got someone else to fix the stick, and it didn't give splashback (flashback?) but finally it drew and all was good ... until it went to return.
There was not enough of a hole for the blood to return to me. Assorted phlebotomists flocked. There are two, Lindsay and Christine(?) who know my veins pretty well. Christine thought that she could get it back in me in my other arm, even if they couldn't draw from there. She called for a new needle for a re-stick, after finding that the vein in my left arm is like an inch off where logic says it should be. Unfortunately, she managed to stick the needle in a half-inch on the other side of the vein, making totally for absolutely no returning of my red cells. Two veins, out of luck.
I am deferred for eight weeks. Lindsay is at least mildly distraught, because that's all the plasma place's bad stick and my scarred-up veins that make them unable to get 16 units of plasma that they would have otherwise almost surely gotten. I'm also one of the people who is happy, healthy, and does not cause trouble. There's a certain amount of drama lingering around plasma places. Evidently being polite and cheerful, almost unfailingly so, without being too nosy, makes me much-liked.
I was less traumatized by the digging-around this time, because I trust both of those two with my veins. I had the star clasped tightly in my hand (as I always do for things like that) and I survived it. I wasn't happy about it, but I survived it and I'd trust them to stick me again. Except not the girl who bungled it; she's done badly with my veins before, and 2nd time is Right Out; there will be no third strike.