Also, Michael's mother is not doing very well, and has ended up in hospital again, unfortunately. Yesterday I went with Michael's cousin's husband and a childhood friend to give blood, so that the blood bank in the hospital would authorize giving more blood to his mum.
Just our luck, the blood bank computer system was down for the first hour, and almost nothing happened, apart from a 'pre-donation interview' with a uniformed nurse, and a blood sample was taken from us. The director of the blood bank faffed around the office in a long floral dress complaining about people not sitting down (the seats were old hospital beds, and only comfortable for...oh no I lie, they were not!). After having waited for 3 hours in the tiny blood bank waiting room and reached a state of acute starvation on the account of having had no breakfast, we were told to drink something. We were then ushered into the donation room, told to wash our arms with liquid soap, and then to lie down on the beds. Apparently my veins are impossible to find, and so the doctor in training made a complete mess of my right arm, which is rather blue today. A more experienced person thankfully tried my left arm, and I managed to donate the 250 ml required. The funniest thing was when I stepped out into the waiting room again with cotton taped to BOTH of my arms - the mostly male donators-to-be were suitably impressed with the fearsome gringa, especially as the guy who left before us fainted and had to be picked up by a relative!!
As a reward for the drama, after checking on Michael's mum we went to have ceviche at Manolo's, and I drank the better part of a litre of chicha - juice made from pineapple and black corn.
