The rest is fate.

There are certain things I try to do in life on a regular basis, and giving blood is one of them.

I got an email about a week ago, asking me to consider donating platelets. I belong to a Facebook group dedicated to people who do so, so I thought it'd be a good idea to try it.

After all, what could go wrong?

I knew the process would take a few hours, so I carved out some time on a Sunday afternoon and drove to the next town over. (Oh, how that expression has changed since I moved. Ha, ha. The next town over is no longer Garden City, and for that I'm very, very thankful.)

The process started out smoothly. I passed the blood pressure test and the finger prick test. All was good and well. They sat me in the chair, and I watched a movie with Ryan Gosling in it, which is not a bad way to spend an afternoon.

Everyone kept asking me if I was okay, which I thought was odd. I finally asked the nurse if I looked weird, and she said that I was considerably more pale than when I came in. 

The thing about me is that I don't get pale easily. Or often at all, or ever, really. I usually turn so bright red that my face becomes a magnificent (and totally attractive) shade of neon orange. So the fact that I was pale was concerning to me.

I was tingly, hot and cold, and a little queasy. I fought through it though, and with the help of a shirtless Ryan Gosling, I made it through.

The nurse made a sound after I was finished when she opened the machine. I noted that it happened in my head, but everything seemed okay, so I ignored it.

I went to eat and drink juice afterward, and felt about 100 times better. I grabbed my keys and asked if I was free to leave. I was the last donor, and I was sure the nurses were eager to get out of there early and go on with their lives. 

Ha, ha. 

The nurses told me to slow down, sit down and take some time. I had been sitting for hours at that point, so I stood up and stood there awkwardly for a few minutes.

One of the nurses told me what was going on. After I finished my donation, the nurse realized that the machine malfunctioned, and my blood was in the machine, where it wasn't supposed to be.

For those unfamiliar with the platelet donation process, here's how it goes.

A needle in one arm takes the blood from you, it's run through a machine to get your platelets, then the blood is returned to you in the other arm. 

So, blood isn't supposed to be in the machine. 

One nurse wanted to call 911. They ended up calling a doctor, and I laughed when the doctor asked if I had a pulse.

That's how life goes sometimes.

I didn't ask specifically, mostly because I didn't want to know, but I'm assuming my donation was not usable because of the machine malfunction.

In the words of one nurse: "The only thing that matters right now is your life."

Oh, man.

I posted the photo below to a Facebook group and got some uplifting responses (and nearly 150 likes). My favorite responses: "Once they stick the needles in and the movie starts, it's out of my hands."

"We go and set them free to the universe, sent with love and intention, it is all we can do. The rest is fate."

So my intentions were good, but the stars did not align for me that day. 

I still got a cool pin and a magnet out of it. Plus a blog post.

It was worth it. 

(The nurses called me the next day to check up on me, which was very nice of them. The only weird side effect I felt was a nasty case of heartburn. Maybe I just had heartburn from something I ate that day, or maybe it was related to this. Who knows.)

Nothing in my life ever goes as planned. So much so, I just gave up making life plans.

Watching and dodging the curveballs life throws at me, over and over and over again, has become one of my favorite past times at this point.

:)