Giving Blood

I went and donated blood for the first time today. Mom called me yesterday and asked me if I would do it. Not having the cure for cancer, or anything remotely close, we felt this would be a good solution to cure our own helpless feelings toward the big evil “c” word that has so viciously attacked people that I love. We only wish there was more we could do…

For those who have never had the pleasure of giving blood, I recount my experience and tell you that it is so not a big deal. I called this morning and made an appointment to go after work. Between the Red Cross Website and the girl I talked to when scheduling, I found out it was only about an hour process (and ended up being less than that, actually). Because I was a “first timer” it took me a little longer because they had to register me in their computer and give me time to review the informative materials. They asked me questions, mainly basic health questions, and questions pertaining to lifestyle, place of residence, covering all the possible scenarios that could have resulted in a blood disease or contamination that could make me ineligible to donate. The first gal who set me up in front of a computer to answer the survey questions pricked my finger and took a small preliminary blood sample to make sure my blood levels were adequate (I’m not sure exactly what they were checking, but the minimum was 38% and I was at 41%). She took my blood pressure, pulse, and temperature (I was strangely 99.4, which is a little high for me). “Are you a little anxious?” she asked. “No”, I told her, “I think I’m just a little high in the blood pressure department because I’m overweight”. Quite honestly I’ve been a ball of nerves and anxiety as of late, but I didn’t offer that explanation to her. She took my name and address and other personal information, entered it into the computer, and told me they would send me my own personal ‘Donor Card’.

Next was the big room with several large medical dentist type chairs. There were already a few folks in the process of giving blood, and after a few minutes, they strapped me into my own (just kidding, no straps involved). I was asked which arm I preferred. “I don’t care, whichever one works better”. (Translate: whichever one is going to be easiest to poke ONE time). I sat comfortably as the male technician once again took my vitals and verified that I was the correct person with the correct paperwork. He looked at my arms and chose my right. He lifted my arm and slathered the inside of my elbow with alcohol and iodine, and waited for it to dry. He fiddled with a maze of tubes around my arm, which assumably led to a pint bag below my chair. After a few minutes he reappeared with a needle and “quick poke” (it was a little sharp) the needle went in but the pain was very brief and once it was in place, the sharpness subsided. I sat quietly and squeezed the foam ball in my hand as often as I could remember, and watched as my blood ran through the tubes beyond my sight. I felt fine the entire time, until the very end. Near the end of pint I began to feel lightheaded, and was experiencing the sensation that precedes fainting for me. I was breathing a little more labored than normal, was fighting passing out, and felt woozy. As the male tech took the needle and tubes away, another female tech was kind enough to bring me an icepack for the back of my neck and a bottle of water. She also adjusted my chair to put my feet higher in the air. After about five minutes in this stance I was all better and the dizziness went away. I hopped out of my chair, was showed the way to the fridge (cold water & juices) and snackies (chips, crackers, cookies, etc.) I grabbed a can of OJ and was out the door & on my way home. I gotta keep this cool pink bandage on for five hours, and no strenuous activity allowed. As if I needed an excuse to avoid the gym.

So that’s it folks. Go give blood. If I can do it, you can do it. You never know-- it could save your life--or the life of someone you love.