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I gave blood on Monday and fainted afterwards.  I am putting this down to a number of factors.

1) It was the quickest donation I've ever made, and I think my body reacted to the suddenness of the blood-loss
2) My last proper period was about six weeks ago and I think that has upset the general rhythm of things - don't know if I'm just skipping a month or I'll never have another
3) I drank coffee after the donation rather than having a cold drink as I would normally - this exacerbated the hot flush I was having anyway and, yeah, my brain just went, 'no thanks!'

So, lessons - don't give blood first thing in the morning and have a cold drink afterwards.

Anyway, the staff were wonderful.  They lay me across three chairs and put a screen around me and gave me a cold drink.  Then I was moved to a bed and they had a fan blowing cold air over me.  They sat me up by degrees and took my blood pressure about 5 times before they were happy with it.  Finally, they said I could go home and rang a taxi - which took about an hour to arrive.  So, I gave blood at 09:30 and got home about 14:30!

And it's taken me all week to recover.  I've been treating myself gently, not rushing to get anywhere, giving myself plenty of time so that I COULD get there on time, letting myself go back to sleep in the mornings.  This I put down to age.

The last time I fainted 'properly' was when I'd got out of a too-hot bath during my period in my 20s.  I also fainted when I was pregnant with my son at 18, and when I was about 14 and rehearsing with the school choir - also during my period (I had REALLY heavy, painful periods when I was a teen).

When I had my sterilisation at 25, I was admitted as a day patient but reacted to the aspirin they gave me, started throwing up and my blood pressure dropped, so I ended up staying overnight.  That time I kind of drifted in and out of consciousness, but I didn't have a proper faint.

But I recovered pretty quickly from all of those, like with 24 hours.  And yes, all these occasions are linked to my fertility in some way!

I am currently using the 'Triple Goddess' Tarot deck - the Triple Goddess traditionally being the Maiden, the Mother and the Crone.  As I move ever closer to true Crone-hood, my sense of being female has grown, which is why I think this deck is so meaningful to me.  I don't consider myself any more feminine - I believe the way my brain works tends to the masculine.

I read an article years ago that suggested the reason human females evolved to live beyond their reproductive years (unlike just about any other species) was so that grandmothers were available to look after small children whilst mothers were out gathering food.  Our ancestors were hunter-gatherers and whilst the 'male' pursuit of hunting SOUNDS more glamourous it is an occasional activity, meaning the group would actually rely far more on the food that was gathered.  And it would be the mothers and older children who would do the gathering.

I also read recently that being menopausal is, in terms of hormones and mood swings and so on, like being a teenager - only now you have all these responsibilities to deal with as well.

Yeah - nobody would choose this.

But as I write this, I realise it is my rite of passage to Crone-hood, to a new period of my life, to a new way of being in and with and of the world.  And rites of passage are, by definition, challenging - there wouldn't be any point otherwise!  That gives me a new way of looking at it - and explains this week's Tarot card.

It is the 9 of Swords and shows an elderly woman, blindfolded, trying to find her way through nine swords thrust randomly into the ground.  The description talked about initiation rites, which made me scratch my head a bit because I associate them with young people.  But, actually, this is her initiation into Crone-hood!  She is me - and I am currently fumbling my way through the very sharp swords around me.

Ah, the power of reflection...
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 Just watched the final episode of 'Little Boy Blue', a dramatization of the real life events following the death of Rhys Jones in Liverpool in 2007. He was the same age as my grandson, getting ready to go to senior school after the summer holidays. He was shot, accidentally, by a member of a local gang who was firing at members of a rival gang. It's left me feeling...

Feeling what? Just feeling. His parents' loss is unfathomable. How do you even begin to get over something like that? They managed to support each other through the investigation and trial but then it fell apart. I can imagine them holding it together, then just not knowing what to do, how to move on. They split up for a while but are now back together. I'm so glad.

You don't know how you'll cope with a tragedy until it happens. Thankfully, my young ones are all safe and well, my husband is here, we're a family.

But what of my sister-in-law's kids, scattered to the winds? What of her brother who lost his father too young and his mother by default?

What of my mother, finding her husband dead by his own hand? Another accident, but just as final as if it were deliberate. Auto-erotic asphyxiation - how did he even know about it? Who on earth first tried that?!

And what would my life had been if he had lived? Where would I be? Who would I be?

Impossible questions. The only answer is, 'somewhere else, someone else' - possibly married but probably not with the family I have now. A different life, neither better nor worse; just different.

He was always present in his absence, always a part of my psyche, although I barely knew him and have no memory of him. An influence on my development, my growth, my self.

But this post was prompted by the tragic loss of an innocent child, not that of a grown man who should have known better.

He lives on in the memory of his family and all who knew him.

RIP Rhys.




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