That’s it. That’s all they took on day two. My bone marrow is so awesome that they don’t need more than that to save a guy. I should get a cookie-shaped medal. Made out of cookie.

Okay, so all of my greatness from the past week is over and I’m home recovering from my superiority over the rest of the human race. I’m bruised and cranky but I’m STILL basking in the feeling of smuggery over literally everyone else.

For those of you just stopping by, I donated bone marrow to a total stranger and let me tell you, it was not quite the picnic it sounds like. You might be misled into thinking it’s all free T-shirts and being fed cookies by the staff while you slowly drip into a tiny ziploc baggie, but it’s actually full of Viking-sized needles that look a lot like screwdrivers. There was a ton of pain, but I do have to admit that none of it was just because the nurses thought it would be funny to wiggle the needles around while fishing for a different vein.

I’m pretty sure I did more than my fair share of whining during the entire process, but it was mostly because it was day seven of No-Wine-Gate and we had already gone to DefCon Get-Me-A-Fucking-Drink. You can’t take away my merlot AND poke me. It’s just not right.

Now that it’s over and my super venom is at this very moment being injected into someone else, I am taking all kinds of liberties with the rest of society. I got to get on the airplane first, just because I limped up to the flight attendant and told her, “I’m really sore from donating bone marrow. Is there any way I can go ahead and get in my seat so that no one bumps my limbs?” The off-property parking people brought my car to the door of the shuttle bus because I told them, “I just donated bone marrow, and I mean, like, a lot of it, and probably more than the legal amount they were allowed to take because my guy was REALLY sick, and my legs hurt.”

I was planning to use this bone marrow excuse with the cashier at Walmart today, but I’m afraid I’d have to explain what bone marrow is and why you need it, so I’m just going to tell her that I’m a recovering heroin addict and I might go nuts if I have to stand there too long. She would probably be more familiar with that scenario.

Basically, I’m giving myself a time limit on how long I get to milk this, but since I got home last night and my husband decided to go watch high school football with his brother instead of coming to see his wife who’s been gone for three days DONATING BONE MARROW (and because he doesn’t read this blog…I’ve warned him that he really should start checking it out), I’m going to tell him it takes three more days to regain full use of my limbs and another six weeks to recover from the weakness from having my bone marrow sucked out. I don’t plan on cooking, wiping, or mopping anything for the foreseeable future.

In all total seriousness, donating bone marrow is awesome. Of course it hurts, but so does cancer. It was an incredible inconvenience that cost me a lot of time and some sick leave, but so is cancer. It did crazy things to my body, but so does cancer. Go get registered to donate by checking out NMDP.org and you’ll have your own excuse to jump in line at Starbucks.