Diary of a Home Bird
‘THIS is going to be your year, I can feel it ’. That is the clichéd line I heard way too much of last month. Friends and family meant well, and in fairness I wouldn’t have appreciated them telling me 2017 is going to be horrible.
Surely nothing can top 2016 … I thought. Then I had one hell of a week. A week that made me fear for all the ailing superstars of this world.
It started off with an email informing me that ‘unfortunately on this occasion’ I didn’t make the cut for a job interview. Oh well, there’s plenty more jobs in the sea (if you get my drift). My friend Colette brought her usual sprinkling of positivity to the conversation when I told her about the rejection email. ‘It just means that job wasn’t meant for you’. Then another email dropped into the inbox and another. The sea was rough and my boat was sinking rapidly.
Feeling like the last kid waiting to be picked on the team at lunchtime I took some time out from the job search. The next day I received a text from the Irish Blood Transfusion Service informing me that stocks of my blood type were low, so I roped in a friend to come along.
I’ve given blood twice or three times before and find it’s a really worthwhile thing to do. Stocks are always running down and for the sake of a couple of hours out of your evening your blood could help save someone’s life. I must admit though, on a more selfish note, you feel really good about yourself after, as the friendly nurses and personnel from the IBTS tell you you’re great for donating. Sure you even get a bar of chocolate at the end and are told not to do any strenuous exercise for 24 hours. It’s a win-win.
My friend had never given blood, and while we were walking into the clinic I told her the perks of the staff complimenting your selflessness, and how after three job refusals I definitely needed to be told my contribution to society was valued, even if that contribution was a pint of blood.
Feeling like a pro, I pulled out my donor card while Anita sat in the ‘first timers’ area. I began drinking water (it enlarges my tiny veins and helps prevent fainting). After an hour’s wait a nurse called me over and went through my questionnaire in more detail. She queried where I had been on holidays recently, and I told her The Philippines. And then the heavy blow was landed. My sojourn on some of The Philippines’ most stunning islands last year meant I could not donate and am in fact banned from donating for a year. Not even my blood is good enough these days.
Oh ya, and to top off the week, Black Beauty failed the NCT … spectacularly.
Maybe 2018 will be my year.
> In her fortnightly Diary of a Home Bird column, Ciara Galvin reveals the trials and tribulations of a twenty-something year old still living with her parents.