First I started feeling gross, like I was about to pass out. They ripped the needle out of my arm (thank goodness my bag was pretty much full) and laid me down. I can tell you that I felt like a complete idiot, because this also happened the time before when I donated. Things were going well, I was recuperating. Then Bam, wave of nausea and I was that loud puker. The one puking into a bag when the nurses swarm like a cloud of wasps. It was great actually, a really humiliating experience.
I don't see how such little blood can cause such a huge effect on my body. Does it really need that extra blood to the point of making me vomit? Apparently. I swear to god, I drank a gazillion litres of water before the fact. Which makes me wonder, why my body couldn't spare a little blood.
The nurses pretty much told me not to come back to donate because I just wasn't able to deal with the loss of blood. Here's hoping that I never get stabbed or lose too much blood. For god sakes, I'll be puking because my body is having a freak out, instead of being upset about the actual stab wound.
I finished off the night by filling my body with chips & dip, cookies and water. I believe that was a particularly healthy choice considering the situation.