We, students, in the 1980s, under the Soviet Union, were usually not asked whether we wanted to or did not want to. The Donor Day? Voluntary donation of blood? All in
“Voluntary” order to “Ikarus” and surrender. Riga, RLTU GA, in the school under 3000 people, the bus approached the bus and we were crowded there. The process went like a conveyor. Rushed...
I don’t know how it is now, but in those years the Central Blood Transfusion Station in Riga was an impressive spectacle. Classical Stalinist style - columns, mosaic panels, wide stairs and special clothing that struck us. Before donating blood, it was necessary to dress in all snow-white: bowls to the knees, a shovel, and a helmet on the head, covering the head together with the neck and with a slit in front of the eyes. In general, a man became similar to a cosmonaut. Everyone was nervous, for the first time. And here we, the first group of astronauts, solemnly climbed this ladder. The process went. But because of this rush, one of my comrades too quickly pulled the needle out of the vein, did not immediately bend his arm in the elbow and applied a cotton. And because he at this time worked very vigorously with his fist, the blood generously turned him from his feet to his head. On a snow white background, it looked very effective.
The impression was as if he was shot from a large-caliber machine gun.
Everything was born of itself, an explosion. As we went back, two of us synchronously, gently picked up the comrade under the elbows, and he began to bend his legs and shake. This is how we went down this staircase and came down...
The pipet. You would see what started there... With every step we took, the people waiting for their turn bleed, turned away from us and slowly and silently fell into a precipice... Someone had to be caused to feel a sting.
An unforgettable spectacle.
And when we removed our masks and the people saw our smiling roses - we learned a lot of interesting things about ourselves.
These are the courses. They were stupid, young... Ahhhh...