It’s time for my annual Halloween column, but I promise it won’t be too gory. I’m not a big lover of blood and guts, and I find it terrifying enough to make it through all the freeways required to get virtually anywhere these days.
So let’s talk about blood. Seriously, I’m just talking about the kind you donate to the Red Cross when they bring one of those bloodmobiles to your neighborhood.
Just the name bloodmobile actually gives me the shivers, but I have been inside one more than once.
The good news: They give you a cookie and some orange juice. The bad news: They suck your blood. See, I told you this would be a Halloween column.
I used to donate blood once upon a time, but then two things happened.
The first was that I started fainting. And not on the spot, either. I’d wait until I left the vampire mobile and was shopping for groceries. And then I would pass out. And I’d wake up and the store employees were calling the paramedics and it was all about as embarrassing as it gets.
These fainting spells only happened when I donated blood, but after a few more tries and a few more of them, I decided the free cookie just really wasn’t worth it.
And it was all in vein. (All you would-be copy editors out there, that was a joke.)
Then, as you likely know, I got cancer. It’s amazing how few people want your blood when you have cancer. Well, except for the people in the doctor’s labs, and they don’t just want a quart. They want all of it.
I go in for testing and close my eyes tightly, because I don’t want to see them filling vial after vial of my vital fluid.
And I always compliment them profusely if they get my vein on the first try. I should probably bring some candy to hand out.
I’m actually quite accustomed to this procedure now and it doesn’t bug me. You just develop a tolerance for certain things.
Like, I didn’t realize until the first time I walked in for a radiation treatment that strange men were going to be seeing my bare rear end. All of it. Every day. I asked if I could have a female technician and they said, “Oh, you needed to request that at the very beginning. Now it’s too late.”
Pretty quickly, I got used to strange guys seeing me naked, which served me well as I made the rounds of the 17 doctors I had in those days. I suspect that I could walk down the street nude without much trauma.
In regard to blood draws, my daughter Curly Girl has been giving blood since she was 18, just because that’s the kind of person she is. However, she has a tendency to be slightly anemic, so sometimes they nicely kick her out and she leaves disappointed.
I actually won’t be here for Halloween, because I’m going to Guadalajara for Day of the Dead. I go to Mexico for this commemoration as often as I can, usually from around Oct. 30 to Nov. 3. The big days of celebration are Nov. 1 and 2.
I’ve been going to different places for 30 years, and I’ve seen it change greatly. It’s celebrated now in more parts of Mexico than ever. It’s lovely to see families celebrating their deceased loved ones and it’s Mexico, so the food is great.
This always leaves the quandry of whether to decorate my house for Halloween. Because I love to decorate and have way too many decorations crammed into orange-and-black bins in my garage.
But it seems a little bait-and-switch. Hey kids, yes, my house is all decorated, but I won’t have any candy for you. I live in one of those neighborhoods where people give out entire candy bars, meaning I want to dress up myself and go get some.
When I first moved in, we were swamped every year with trick-or-treaters who knew our neighborhood was a good bet. In fact, I used to have to frantically run to the store for more candy at 8 p.m.
But now it seems like kids are going to other events, like parties or trunk ‘n treats, and not knocking on doors as much. Which begs the question: How much candy should I actually buy? This is vexing.
I won’t be here to hand it out, but other people will. Maybe. I only buy candy I don’t like, so I’m even less inclined to appreciate leftovers. I used to bring it into the newsroom, because newspaper reporters will eat anything if it’s free. I mean anything. But now I work at home.
Hmm. Such a dilemma.
