ndrosen

With a blood donation scheduled for ten thirty this morning, I drank only a little instant coffee at breakfast; I didn’t want too much caffeine in the blood I donated, but I did want my blood pressure high enough that I wouldn’t have any trouble being allowed to donate. It worked out, and after donating, I went upstairs to my office, examined for a bit, and then went to Whole Foods for groceries and a little more coffee — just a little, I didn’t want too high a daily caffeine intake. Also, with coffee scarce and the price high after a bad harvest in Brazil, I didn’t want to take more than I would actually drink.

There was a pot of medium roast coffee available, and other stuff behind the counter. I told the barista I wanted regular drip coffee, but would he please pour just four or five ounces or so. He said he could give me a sample size cup, and asked me to wait a minute, since a new pot would soon be ready. I asked whether that was dark roast, and when he said that it was, I said that I didn’t like dark roast. (In my opinion, one mostly tastes the charcoal, not the coffee beans, so down with Starbucks.) He gave me a small cup, and when I started to present my credit card, he told me that it was free. I thanked him, put a few coins in the tip jar, and drank the coffee. Being lukewarm, it wasn’t great, but it gave me the dosage of caffeine I wanted.

I was signed up to donate blood at 10:00 AM, and I didn’t want to give the recipients too much caffeine, which might not be good for them, so, although I drank a mug of green tea with breakfast, as usual, I didn’t follow it with a cup of instant coffee, as I usually do on weekdays. I planned on going to Sprigs after the donation, and treating myself to a cup of their excellent coffee, and perhaps some baklava. Before my appointment, I walked vigorously up multiple flights of stairs to raise my blood pressure.

I tested at 89 over 54, which was just below the minimum systolic pressure of 90, so the nice lady said I could come back in ten minutes or more. I went to Sprigs for cup of black coffee (no baklava), and then exercised, walking up the twenty-four steps from the Concourse level to the Lobby level of the Randolph Building twice, and then walking from the second floor to the eighth floor, six times twenty-one steps, for a total of 174. Then I went back to the bloodmobile parked outside the Knox Building, and this time my blood pressure was 118 over 79. I suppose I might have drunk less coffee, or exerted myself less. Anyway, I gave blood.

There was a bloodmobile at the Patent Office, soI went down there to donate. My blood pressure was 87 over 57, which wasn’t high enough, but the lady said I could come back in ten minutes and try again. I spent the ten minutes walking briskly up and down a twenty-four step staircase in the Patent Office, and when I came back, my blood pressure was 109 over 64, which was good enough, although my pulse of 92 gave rise to some concern; I don’t know what my pulse was the first time.

Anyway, they let me donate. I would normally have waited until June, as I prefer three months to recover between donations, but I expect to be out of town for a few days at the time of the June blood drive.

I remember lovely azaleas from the Patent Office courtyard, but I seem to have arrived too late in the season to fully enjoy them; they were largely wilted.

I donated blood back in September, and about a week later, I received an email saying that I tested negative for COVID-19 antibodies. That’s nice, although it might possibly be better to test positive: then I could be pretty confident that I was immune, and had had an infection too mild to notice.

Afterward, I received the same email three more times. I don’t know why; perhaps they split up my pint of blood, and whenever they gave Patient A some red blood cells or Patient B some plasma, they tested for COVID-19 antibodies, and sent me an automated email. At least they’re being thorough.

There was a bloodmobile at the Patent Office Friday morning, and I was scheduled to give blood. After I filled out the questionnaire, I got a quick exam, at which my blood pressure was eighty-eight over fifty something. The Red Cross gentleman asked whether it was always that low. I told him that it tended to be on the low side, but was normally a hundred and something over sixty something. He said that with an upper number below ninety, I couldn’t donate, but I could try again in ten minutes. I asked whether I should get some exercise, and he said he wasn’t allowed to advise me.

I got a cup of black coffee, and walked up the twenty-four step staircase between the Concourse and the first floor of the Randolph building four times. When I came back, my systolic pressure was over a hundred, and the diastolic also notably higher. They let me give blood, which I did without ill effects.