They asked me to do a directed donation of platelets. They found a match for me, and wanted my specific platelets. This is unusual. I haven't donated platelets in 8 years. The simple fact that they determined that itty bits of my blood would be good for a particular individual after that long is darn nifty.
I went through hell finding the donation center. After I walked in, the director walked past and said, "You look like you had a rough time. Anything I can get you?" I replied instantaneously, "Bourbon!" No luck, though. My request was seconded by my phlebotomist, who said, "Good idea. We could use some Knob Creek 'round here."
It was more or less SOP since the last time I donated. They put needles in both my arms, set me up with a movie (I didn't see the whole thing, but I deliberately picked one that wasn't high on my priority list to pay attention to) and it took about an hour and a half from the time they prepped me until I was done. I got cold, but they had blankets.
Not too shabby. Normally I help 700 patients a day. Yesterday I helped 701.