Wednesday, September 28, 2016


So, yesterday my husband headed out to sell his blood. Well, it's technically "donating plasma" and they pay you for time, but that's not the way I see it.

    He was denied. They required a note from his doctor saying he's mentally fit to donate.


   I am terribly confused, shocked and a bit angry on his behalf that something like bipolar could bar someone from donating plasma, but I do have to say I'm awfully relieved.
    I've done a good job of ABSOLUTELY STAYING OUT OF IT.

    I figured it was totally his deal and I avoided talking about it or reminding him at all. He remembered on his own so I figured he actually wanted to. . . Until he was just about headed out the door.

    "Are you sure you want to?" The words slipped out of my mouth and I winced at my lack of self-control.

    "No," he stated flatly, "but we need the money."

    And my heart sank. My nausea was justified and I felt awful.

    I don't want to be at that point where the man who my life revolves around feels like he has to sell his blood for us to survive.

    So, I applied for a second job. *sigh*

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