Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Story of a guy named Ro......
2.10pm. And so he walked up to the third level with three other friends. As he entered the room, he looked around, amazed by the number of people present. He filled up the form, went through the normal procedures, walked towards a chair and he sat on it. As he waited ernestly for his turn, he was reminded of the last time he gave. He wondered how it would feel this time round, though he knew he would feel a sense of satisfaction after the whole thing. He knew he would feel as if he is some sort of a hero, saving lives out there in the streets. As he waited, he prepared himself mentally, trying not to think too much. 3.00pm, three more persons before him. It's 3.10pm. He heard a voice,:"Next please." And so he stood up, walked towards the person who called out. He was ready. He stretched out his arm. He laid his hand on the rest board provided. The white-shirt angel was there, running through every step precisely. She had done this for many times. He had faith in her. He was not afraid nor was he nervous. He was ready. And before he could realise the pain, the needle was already through his skin. 5 mins have passed. The bag was half filled. 3.30pm. She came back and she took the needle out from his skin carefully. She took the precious bag of blood and kept it safe from harm. She then bandaged his wound with a funky purple coloured bandage with smileys on it. He stood up and took the milo provided. He drank it and made his way home.
2.10pm. And so he walked up to the third level with three other friends. As he entered the room, he looked around, amazed by the number of people present. He filled up the form, went through the normal procedures, walked towards a chair and he sat on it. As he waited ernestly for his turn, he was reminded of the last time he gave. He wondered how it would feel this time round, though he knew he would feel a sense of satisfaction after the whole thing. He knew he would feel as if he is some sort of a hero, saving lives out there in the streets. As he waited, he prepared himself mentally, trying not to think too much. 3.00pm, three more persons before him. It's 3.10pm. He heard a voice,:"Next please." And so he stood up, walked towards the person who called out. He was ready. He stretched out his arm. He laid his hand on the rest board provided. The white-shirt angel was there, running through every step precisely. She had done this for many times. He had faith in her. He was not afraid nor was he nervous. He was ready. And before he could realise the pain, the needle was already through his skin. 5 mins have passed. The bag was half filled. 3.30pm. She came back and she took the needle out from his skin carefully. She took the precious bag of blood and kept it safe from harm. She then bandaged his wound with a funky purple coloured bandage with smileys on it. He stood up and took the milo provided. He drank it and made his way home.
This is written at 3/15/2005 08:23:00 pm
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