Don't get me wrong. I hate needles. But a wise man once said: When you are afraid, do the thing you are afraid of and soon you will lose your fear of it. So that's what I'm out to do; conquer my fear of those big gigantical needles that suck all the blood out of you... Eeeyh. I sure hope it doesn't backfire.
~After the Appointment~
Did I say I wanted to donate every month? Ha! Don't know where that came from.
My appointment was at twelve thirty and then I had work at two. I arrived early, as Julia always does, but didn't get in the chair until ten minutes after one o'clock. I guess they were running late. The donation center thing was held in the town's new Medical Center, and boy does it look new! Anyway, just like the last time things didn't go so well.
I got in the chair and my held-off-nerves came sweeping over me, overwhelmingly powerful -as if the lack of my feeling anxious had built up behind me and then suddenly it was crushing me. Not the most pleasant of feelings. I had tried my best not to think about what I was going to do this morning for the simple reason of not wanting to get myself all worked up. A lot of good that did.
My assistant/blood-care-person helped out by covering up the needle and making me look away when she stuck me. I never saw the needle. And I never saw the blood.The assistant was funny. I had told her that I don't do needles. She was a short little women of twenty-six and she had the strangest personality. Her name was Robin and she was peppy, talkative, and very silly. Anyhow, just before she stuck me she called one of the volunteers to come and stand on the opposite side of the bed. The volunteer's name-tag told me that her name was Linda. (Most of the donors there were employees of the Medical Center, hence the name tag. People kept asking me what department I worked it and I had to tell them that I actually didn't work there at all. They seemed happy that I had gone out of my way to donate. Anyway) Linda was funny too. I was glad she jumped right in to help. She didn't think it was at all weird to have to talk to some freaked out teenager about not freaking out.
Linda told me a quick story about her husband giving blood. She said that the lady taking his blood didn't even notice that he'd passed out on the seat until his wife, Linda, told him that her husband was unconscious. Yeah, that was reassuring. Not. Despite Linda's attempts to get my mind off of the sting of the gigantical needle I was still very aware of it. (Robin was kind enough to tell me that the needle going into me was a 16 gauge. Yeah, put that on the list of things NOT to tell the donor.)
The needle stung like crazy! I was sure that the last time hadn't been this uncomfortable. I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming out in pain. Through my teeth I told Linda that it really hurt. Thankfully Robin was paying attention and realized that the needle had struck the vein wall. She mentioned something about it vibrating when it hit the wall. The needle -vibrating. Ouch! It was so painful!
Well, she fixed that and then I was given that stupid ball and was instructed to squeeze and release every five seconds. Just as soon as the blood started flowing out of my body, my head felt really light, black blotches started popping up in random places, and my entire upper body became really hot. Like it was weird, I could almost feel the blood rushing to my heart really fast making every vein really warm.
"I'm feeling light headed," I said immediately, not wanting to experience quite the same thing I had the last time. So, Robin made the chair a bed and I gave blood lying down. I felt embarrassed when I was given the rags. One on my forehead, one on my neck. No one else had to use them. Just me. Pathetic.
But it gets worse. After I had finished giving blood I asked if I could leave right then -I had work in fifteen minutes! That's just enough time to get there. One of the assistance gave me a stern disbelieving look. "You can't leave that fast!"
Well, fine. I deliberated calling work and telling them that I'd be a few minutes late but decided against it. I wouldn't be that late. In fact, if I were to humor these people for a few minutes, I could still make it there on time. So I sat there. Ignoring the pain and the desire to lay back down. I wanted to stay there. I really did. But I also didn't want to get in trouble for being late. A few minutes later I told one of the guys that I thought I was able to stand so he let me stand, but not leave. He walked beside me to the refreshment table (and are there always Nutter-Butters there? One of the other donors had asked for a sticker that said "I did it for the Nutter-Butters." I thought that was funny.) So I sat there at the table, not wanting to eat anything. I especially didn't want anything to drink. I had just downed an entire water-bottle right before getting in the chair and it had quickly gone through my system and was ready to come out.
As I sat there, the room teetered back and forth and the warmth spread though my veins, but I couldn't afford to be late for work. I could be a tough cookie for a few more minutes, just long enough to convince the people that I was okay. Well, my plan was foiled by that little elderly lady who checked me in. She kept a ridiculously close eye on me. Every time I shut my eyes or touched my head she would be at my side asking me if I was feeling dizzy. I reassured her, several times, that I would be fine. She didn't need to panic. After the third reassurance, things started getting a little hazy. The room spun and the blotches reappeared. I shut my eyes, leaning back in my chair trying to fix whatever was happening. Then, out of nowhere, the lady was there at my side. She grabbed my arm and demanded whether or not I was okay. I answered truthfully and told her that I was feeling really dizzy. So, just like last time, the assistants bustled around me and I was quickly laid on the floor with my feet propped up on my chair. I was beyond feeling embarrassed; lying there, pale faced, wet rags all over my me. I was utterly humiliated. The whole thing was just...ugh.
I was on the floor for a while, looking up at everyone from behind the white clothes. Eventually, one of the ladies came by and asked if I was okay. I told her that aside from my over-filled bladder I was fine, or better anyway. She laughed and had someone escort me to the bathroom. That was embarrassing too. But at least, no one out in the hallway would know that I'd nearly passed out.
I was seven minutes late for work. I truly thought I'd have to go home though. For the first two hours it was hard to stay up; the room tilted strangely, and my head, as light as it was, felt like a ton of bricks.
I don't like giving blood. I know that, of course. But something one of the other donors said hit me. "I believe that if your a healthy adult you should give blood. If you can, do it. Simple as that." So, as much as I'd love not to go through what I obviously always will whenever I donate, I'd like to help. I'm healthy and able. I just tell myself that I'm doing it for someone who needs it more. My body can always produce more blood. No biggie.
So, the sticker I got today was a little different than last time. It says. "I Tried To Give Blood Today." ...I think I liked the last one better. The word Tried just seems a little... I don't know. Bad. Like I failed. Oh well. I hope next time it's a little better. At least I have another eight weeks to prepare myself. ;)
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