I can. Foot in mouth.
Yesterday I was the proud hostess of my work’s blood drive. In my quest to meet the 20-units-of-blood-goal, many of the folks at work attempted to tell me they couldn’t donate blood for a variety of reasons. I found that most of these reasons are not true. Because of this fact, I walked a fine line trying to persuade people they can, in fact, donate. This is a fine line because of the reasons for which people cannot donate. Some of these reasons include, but are not limited to: cancer within the past five years, male homosexuality, drug use with a needle (shared, or otherwise), receiving or giving money for sex, the list goes on. I’m guessing most people might not bee too completely comfortable disposing this information with a small crowd of co-workers listening in. On the other hand, many people’s reasons are something like: “I can’t, I’ve been over sea’s” or “I have diabetes” or “I hate needles.” I have come-backs for all of those reasons. Fine line, right?
I made the mistake of asking “Frank” why he declined my invitation to save three lives. His response lacked eye contact. “I can’t, conviction.” My mind immediately shot to “personal conviction.” Like a personal conviction against needles (strange, I know). I burst out in laughter. A personal conviction against needles? Come on, that’s funny! Well… it would have been funny had it been true. All at once it hit me. Frank wasn’t talking about a personal conviction. He was talking about a conviction. A run-in with the law. An arrest. Prison. I could be wrong, but I have a feeling laughter wasn’t the appropriate response. Ooohhh Cambria.