On Monday, I went to my appointment for a clinical trial regarding meningitis. No, I don’t have meningitis. No, they aren’t giving me meningitis. No, I am not taking a drug for meningitis. They are taking my clean, healthy (2 words not usually associated with me) blood plasma for use in studying how to combat meningitis. You’re welcome, world. Actually, I don’t need your gratitude, because they’re paying me for my pristine blood plasma.
After taking my temperature (normal), blood pressure (122/68), and checking my hemoglobin (super high … is that good?), they asked me about any recent antibiotic use. Well, yes, during my bout with COVID. That disqualified me. I was miffed. Why didn’t they ask me about antibiotic use over the phone when they scheduled me? I was being sent home with all my blood plasma intact.
Then my disposition turned sunny again when I was told that I would still get paid! And I can go back in December to donate and get paid again. At that point, I knew what I need to do. I must get my hands on some antibiotics and take them right before my December visit, so I don’t have to actually donate my plasma but still get paid. Am I a bad guy?
Jim Flanigan Looks at the World 