Raising a pint
Writing by treason on Saturday, 21 of April , 2007 at 4:50 pm
“Give Blood
But you may find that blood is not enough
Give blood
And there are some who say it’s not enough
Give blood
But don’t expect to ever see reward
Give blood
You can give it all but still you’re asked for more
Give blood
But it could cost more than your dignity
Give blood
Parade your pallor in iniquity
Give blood
They will cry and say they’re in your debt
Give blood
But then they’ll sigh and they will soon forget…”
– Pete Townshend
It occurred to me that I was way overdue for a blood donation. When I discovered how long it had actually been since I gave up a pint, I felt ashamed. I felt guilty. I felt stupid. Why, I need to get back on a regular schedule and give more blood, I told myself. They need A Positive, I have A Positive, and I’m going to make an appointment!
I called the number and got a recording. What am I – retarded? I’ll go to their website and make an appointment! And what a marvelous system it is. I was surprised that my information was right there, it was easy to access, and it was even easier to make an appointment.
Do you know how many blood drives are going on in your area? It’s staggering! Really, there’s just no excuse not to go give blood. Unless, of course, you’re anemic. Or sleep around a lot. Or sleep around with people from Africa. Or have traveled to Africa. Or are sleeping with people who have traveled to Africa. Or Europe. Or you inject illegal substances. Or have AIDS. Or hepatitis. Or a recent tattoo. Or have taken an aspirin lately.
I know it’s been a long time since my last donation because the questionnaire is a lot longer now. No, I don’t have SARS. West Nile Virus? No. Mad Cow? Uh-uh. A cold? Don’t think so.
T made the mistake of driving me to the blood collection center. Where he waited. And waited. And waited. I waited, too, but was glad to see that so many walk-ins were there with those who had scheduled appointments. People are ponying up their blood – that’s swell! I’m so happy I’m doing this! I’m going to go straight home and sign myself up for the Heroes For Life program so I can give even more!
But there was that long questionnaire. Really long. And the worst part: the anemia test. Your finger is pricked and squeezed, and a tube is raked across the hole to collect blood. Again and again. Just a little more. (rake, rake) A little more and we’ll be done. (rake, rake) Just a little… bit… more.
Labels are printed. Bags are labeled. A squishy object is squeezed. And squeezed again. And again. A needle is inserted. The rest should be easy. You bleed into a bag, you get some juice and a cookie, a volunteer chit-chats with you, and you stagger away, feeling pretty good about yourself.
But this time there was a problem. It took awhile to get my blood pressure. That was odd. Finally, it registered and it was perfect. Surprising, but a good thing. Then they needed my pulse. I didn’t have one. Generally, this is not a good sign, but eventually the pulse appeared and it, too, was very good.
“You must exercise a lot!”
“No. Never.”
“Well, then you just must be very healthy!”
“News to me.”
I was passed off to someone who passed me off to someone so she could have lunch. The new someone would have passed me off to someone who had just finished lunch, but he told that person to go back and get seconds – he had it covered.
He then asked me what my plans were for the weekend and told me about every yard and home project and dinner plan he had to look forward to. Clever. He was obviously trying to distract me so I wouldn’t feel the big needle going into my arm.
And then he gasped and said those three little words: “I’m sooooo sorry!”
Uh-oh. I know it had been a long time, but I just don’t recall that part. The “I’m so sorry” part. I looked at my arm and so did two other people who came running over to see it.
“Eeeeeeewwww!!!! That’s not good!”
“Here, let me try!”
“No, that’s not working.”
“Oh, man that’s going to leave a big bruise.”
“Did you try this?”
“Let me move it… here a little… no… hmmm… that’s not it.”
“Oh, well!”
I suggested they try the other arm. But it appears I have no veins in the right one, so I wasn’t going to be able to donate that day.
“But you’ll still get a free T-shirt!”
It was one from last year’s university blood drive, but that was okay. It’s the perfect thing to wear if I want to show off my new bruise. Except that the shirt says 2006, and the bruises and needlemarks look like I’m shooting heroin in 2007.
As soon as I heal, I’ll make another appointment and try again. But with trepidation this time.
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