Today, after several urgings from a good friend, I donated blood. It was the first time I had ever done so, and I was pretty scared.But there was no reason not to do it. This is the best my health has ever been and I have no medical issues that would make my donation unusable. Still, for years I couldn't bring myself to sit down, be stuck with a large needle and give some fluids that would potentially save someone's life.
What finally tipped the balance was reflecting on what would happen if ever I was seriously injured or in need of surgery. I'd have to be given blood. I couldn't expect someone to do for me the same thing I wouldn't do in return.
So there I sat with my feet propped up in a special chair and a thick needle in my arm opening the path for me to give up a fraction of something I take for granted.
I hate needles. They're so small and invasive. In the blink of an eye, they slide right through every layer of skin. But since we're technologically more advanced than medicine's bloodletting days, the only way this would happen was with a needle stick.
It ended up as no big deal thanks in part to the marvelous skill of Karen the phlebotomist in finding and penetrating the vein. She was masterfully quick with an almost imperceptible touch.
The buildup was a little frightening with Karen telling me the needle is larger than what is used to take blood samples as she placed a towel across my shirt. "Sometimes there's a little spray." When she told me I should expect to feel "a bit of a prick," I looked away expecting something much more gruesome than the pinch and drop of blood on my arm.
Stress ball in hand, I squeezed every 5 seconds to keep blood flowing through the long tube and down into the bag. For whatever reason, it took a little longer and the machine collecting my fluids complained when the flow slowed.
Maybe I was a little dehydrated, Karen said. It could also be that my vein is about the same size as the tube leading from the needle to the collection bag.
Feeling inadequate, I squeezed the ball a little harder and wriggled my toes inside my shoes. It must have helped because the bag was filled not long after that. Then Karen sprang back into action, filling a few vials to test for any unknown nasties floating around in my system.
The needle shifted ever so slightly and I clenched my jaw, reminding myself not to be such a sissy.
My feet no longer propped up, I had to take a minute to drink some water and make the room stop spinning. I have never fainted and I didn't want to start now. Not long from that point, I was back in the car with a bright pink merit badge wrapped around my arm and a free t-shirt in my hand.
They say I can donate again at the end of August.
Thanks, Lifeblood.
