A Blatant Plug for the New Blog

Many of my most faithful readers have asked, “Where are you, Mother Goose? We miss your daily stories about people you know and places you go.”

And I do apologize for my seemingly absent stories, but I must tell you about the most exciting experience I’ve had in a long time! I met yesterday with a young man AND an older gentleman. Now before you get your undies in a bunch, please hear me out…

This was an interview I was conducting of a young U.S. Marine veteran who is now an accomplished and exhibited artist in the Chicagoland area. I am currently telling his story for all to hear over at that other Mother Goose blog, Mother Goose Salutes.

Of course, I am not one who likes to toot her own horn, per se. Or honk her own praises…

But this is such a great story about such an amazing man that I just have to invite you over there to read it. Here’s just a snippet from the story:

“I’m actually thankful for getting blown up in Iraq four times. I’m actually happier now being an artist rather than getting the business management degree I always thought I’d get.”

(Maybe you need to stop and read that quote again…)

Marine veteran and artist, Richard Casper at The Corner Bakery.

Please consider this an open invitation to follow The Ballad of Richard Casper, a real life American hero with a vision to help other disabled veterans — perhaps to even save the lives of some of our returning troops who suffer from Traumatic Brain Injuries and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Love, Mother Goose

Should a Goose Donate Her Blood?

Every couple of months, Mother Goose heeds the call. I hop into my speedy little goosemobile and buckle up for the ride of my life. We hit the Eisenhower Expressway at 70 mph and fly down the road to our destination twenty miles away. We pass the other cars like they are standing still, and Mother Goose guzzles Gatorade all the way.

What on earth could possibly compel the goose to drive so far, so fast and so frequenty? Here’s a little clue:

It seems pretty straight forward.

Mother Goose enters through the front door because she is a special goose. I immediately head for the restroom, dropping off my driver’s license at the desk so that Alicia can verify that I am truly a goose. Upon my return from the relief station, she hands me a folder of educational materials to read and informational forms to confirm that “Yes, indeed, I AM Mother Goose.” It is always so difficult for people to believe that I am who I am.

We go into a little room to once again discuss that I am Mother Goose and whilst we are talking about that, Alicia draws a little blood from my finger. She even asks me if I have a favorite one! Imagine! She also checks my temperature (with a disposable oral thermometer, thank you) and my blood pressure. And then she again asks me to state my name, my address, my birthday and confirms my signature on the form. Yes, I am Mother Goose truly.

With the formalities out of the way, we proceed to the actual blood donation station where Marilyn asks me to comfortably recline and extend my proposed wing. I used to propose my left wing but they had some trouble finding any veins in that one, so now I propose my right wing instead. And then we once again confirm my identity.

This issue of confirming my identity so many times is so puzzling to Mother Goose. Sure they know who I am, and who in their right minds would ever want or try to impersonate me?

And then we get down to the business of extracting the blood from Mother Goose. There was much swabbing of the inner elbow region of the goose’s wing with various types of iodine — apparently my wing needed more cleaning and sterilizing than the ordinary customer. My kind technician patiently listened to me blab on and on about various causes that I am involved in. It’s truly amazing how quickly Mother Goose can ramble on and on when she is feeling nervous.

Do you realize that our blood contains our very life?

I looked across the room and Marilyn warned me of a little pinch as she inserted the sterile needle into my completely sterile wing. Felt the pinch and then some as she probed and then found the invisible artery. I was all fine with that, except there was no blood coming out of my wing and into the tubing which led to the pint-sized rubber collection baggy. “Gina, could you please look at this,” Marilyn called out to her friendly coworker.

Should Mother Goose have an anxiety attack at this point in the procedure? No, remain calm dear goose. All is well. Gina immediately arrived at the side of the goose and with just one quick adjustment of the sterile needle, the blood and life of Mother Goose was flowing out out out into the baggy.

Did you know one pint of blood can save up to three lives?

After twenty minutes, it was all over.

I was gently disconnected from the monitors and tubing. I was presented with a new t-shirt. I was carefully escorted to the refreshment station where I quickly consumed two cans of orange juice and a bag of sun chips and a bag of pecan sandies. The ladies were curious about my appetite, but also curious to know if I’d like to schedule my next appointment. Seeing that in two months my arm would be healed up and my blood supply refilled, I agreed to come back to see them in April.

We again confirmed my identity.

Have you heard that healthy adults who are at least 17 years old, and at least 110 pounds may donate about a pint of blood – the most common form of donation – every 56 days, or every two months. Females receive 53 percent of blood transfusions; males receive 47 percent.

These women are phlebotomists by trade, but they are kind-hearted and friendly by choice. Please consider this: if a silly old story-telling goose can donate her precious blood once in awhile, maybe you can too. Just be sure to bring your ID and be sure you know who you are…

The kind-hearted ladies at Heartland Blood Center.