Waiting on a couch

There were mixed responses to my last post, but no Go Fund Me donations. I get the message, folks: one of me is plenty. A few readers were thrown by the whole nature-nurture thing. Would my clone really be me without my experiences and memories? Probably not. I’ve always been an idea person; perhaps I didn’t really think this through.

But my time for random musings is over, it appears. Now that summer is ending, I find myself with not one but two volunteering opportunities on the horizon. Expect more typos as my time to obsess over my writing will be reduced substantially.

Next week is my first shift at the Canadian Blood Services. I’ll be at 727 – 13 Avenue SW every Monday afternoon from 3-6 p.m. if anyone would like to stop by to give the gift of life. I’ll watch over you after you donate and alert a nurse if you need a new bandaid or faint unexpectedly. I’ll serve you soup and cookies and juice. That’s if I can manage to complete all the on-line training. I spent hours on it yesterday, and I still wasn’t sure of all the answers on the final exam. Thank goodness it’s open book.

In the midst of prepping for Monday, I dropped off my completed PALS application. The lovely Linda, administrator extraordinaire and kind person, greeted me. She also offered to schedule Jelly and me for our initial interview.

Assuming we jump that first hurdle, as most do, we’d undergo a behavioural assessment involving multiple volunteers and 13 challenging stations. But there’s one problem: J. and I plan to be away during the two fall assessment dates. Jelly and I may have to wait until the spring.

What did you say, Sadness? I know, I’m disappointed too.

Imagine you’re ready and excited for something new and then you realize it’s going to take months. Which brings us to the couch analogy. When I need a new couch, I choose the frame and the fabric and then I occupy the old, uncomfortable one for months until my purchase arrives. But what if, after 2 or 3 or 8 months, I’m told my choice of fabric has been discontinued, or my order never went in, or my sofa arrives but it’s damaged, and I’m back at square one? Do you see the parallels?

I think Jelly and I would make great PALS, but the powers that be may not assess us for several months. (I know, Joy, more time to work on improving Jelly’s obedience. Run off with your silver lining, would you?) Even after that long wait, Jelly and I may still fail to meet the behavioural criteria.

So I told Linda, who discerned from my application how serious I am about this venture, that since my leukemia diagnosis, time is of the essence. I had disclosed my leukemia in the application so I wasn’t technically pulling the L card, although you might beg to differ. Without further prompting, Linda offered to speak to the boss to determine whether there might be another way to speed up the path toward PALShood. Here’s hoping, because that old couch is getting mighty uncomfortable.

In the meantime, I’ll focus on being the best bloody volunteer I can be. Maybe I’ll even pick up a few extra shifts. Soup anyone?

Road sign says: Welcome to disappointment. Don't stay too long.


6 thoughts on “Waiting on a couch

  1. Congratulations!!! That is so exciting. And I really hope that PALS is able to speed up your approval process. But what about all those treats you normally bake and let me sample? Will you still have time for that ; )


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