First time donor

It's rare that I have philosophical discussions.  I don't like having them, because it's really hard work.  Plus, sometimes you make a blanket statement that comes back to bite you later.  Recently I broke the "ban" and Travis and I talked about something I was reading for class.  I felt like the author was saying that you should look at the results of a decision and decide whether it was a mistake.  This didn't feel quite right to me, because sometimes you make the best decision you possibly can at the time, and the outcome is still awful.  I wouldn't categorize that as a mistake, something you have to feel terrible about and regret.  I think you should be able to say "I did the best I could" and that's that.
However . . .
Yesterday I maybe proved myself wrong.  It may have been a mistake to give blood.  I felt great about it at the time, especially since I was checking something off my mental "things I've always wanted to try" list.  I felt healthy, weighed plenty, and recently tested negative for anemia.  I feel like someone who meets all of these qualifications and is not afraid of needles should give it a go.  So I did.  The experience was satisfying: doing good while sitting in a comfy chair, reading Time magazine!  (Did you know that Weight Watchers has changed their point system so that fruits and vegetables are free now, and that Hilary Clinton joked that she should have a jacket that says "Apology Tour," since all she's been able to do since the whole wikileaks fiasco is travel the world apologizing to foreign governments?  And that Glenn Beck says he is all for civility in public discourse?)  Afterward they gave me juice and a Little Debbie cupcake, and I got to sit and chat with a sweet little lady named Pat, whose job it was to make sure I drank my juice and ate my cupcake without passing out.  Then I walked across campus, feeling pretty good, did a little more work, and went home (Travis picked me up).  At home, I feel a little nauseated, so I sat down for an hour or so.  Then I got up to make dinner.  Then I laid down on the floor, which I realize in retrospect was sort of fainting, and when I couldn't get up I called Travis.  Well first I tried to get Sasquatch, who was licking my face, to go get Travis for me, but she seemed content right where she was.  If I'd been completely with it at the time, I would have made a hilarious "Help!  I've fallen and I can't get up!" joke.  Alas.  Finally Travis heard me and came, and there was more falling and fainting before I blacked out completely.  I woke up and Travis was touching my face.  He had moved me so I was laying on my side, and I vaguely recognized that someone on the phone was telling him to do this.  I also vaguely recognized that I was all the way across the house.  It seemed like only a few seconds had passed since Travis first came upstairs, but turns out there was time for him to go bring the car around and call the fire department.

• Upside: the people from the fire department were really nice.  From the floor, I could hear them telling Travis he was lucky I had an easy-to-remember birthday.  
• Downside: my blood pressure was lower than I thought it was possible for blood pressure to be.  Everyone made fun of me for trying to give blood.  

 Then we went to urgent care (I was luckily able to convince everyone that I did not need an expensive ambulance or hospital visit).

• Upside: The people at urgent care were also really nice!  From my wheelchair, I could hear them telling Travis I looked like a ghost.  They gave me a blanket when the IV fluid made me all cold.
• Downside: These people also made fun of me for trying to give blood.  

So, to recap: I gave blood, and met lots of nice people, but the general consensus by all these nice people (who were all medical experts, btw) was that it was a terrible mistake for me to give blood.  So, even though I was well-intentioned and well-informed and did the best I could at the time, maybe I was wrong to give blood.  I guess my first-time donor sticker will forever sit alone in the far corners of my purse, with no "second-time" donor sticker to keep it company.  Also, maybe I should have taken the other "first time donor" sticker, the one that also said "handle with care . . ."