I must say that I experienced no apprehension going in to the blood drive. It seemed simple enough: fill out a couple forms, certify that I am not infected with any diseases or otherwise sick, and sit in a room for a few minutes while filling a bag with potentially lifesaving serum. I wanted to experience donating blood, but I had no idea what was in store for me.
So, with Marcy by my side, I went to the blood drive. I was impressed by the large amount of people willing to donate, and the efficiency by which this operation was organized. There were sections for sign-up, sections for filling out the surveys, a screening area, waiting areas, and finally, the main donation areas and refreshments counters. I thought I would be just fine with the big breakfast I had at 8 this morning - problem was, that was more than five hours before I donated.
My first stop: the screening table. This is where they check to see if you have enough iron in your blood to make a donation. The rule is 15 seconds or less; if it takes any longer for your sample to reach the bottom of the beaker, I'm not sure what would happen. My sample dropped like a rock - this was good. After the test, the nurse checked my blood pressure. The verdict: 98/52, somewhat low but still acceptable.
I still felt no adverse apprehension; I thought a subconscious fear of blood would suddenly make me freak out, or that a hidden fear of needles would make me bicker like a high school girl. The finger prick did not hurt in the least, and the main needle for the donation wasn't much of a bother either (though it could be because the nurse drawing my blood was rubbing some sort of numbing agent over my vein; it was more annoying than anything).
When it finally came time for me to donate, I took one look at the needle and said, "That thing is huge." I did not want to see it going in. I was given some rubber object to squeeze, but I soon asked for a plush ball because the rubber was getting harder to manipulate. I soon felt why.
As I was filling the bag, I started getting very hot, my vision started to fade and the room was beginning to spin; I also started sweating profusely. It was at that point I started to feel a bit scared. My nurse, Stacy, put a compress on my head and tilted my chair back so my feet were in the air. She said this was to better promote circulation. She also wanted me to move my feet as if I were pedaling a bike. All while this was happening, the ball was getting harder to squeeze and I was becoming slightly delirious.
Is this what it's like to lose a lot of blood? I wondered to myself. Could this feeling be why blood donation is so important?
I felt better while I was in the reclined position, albeit still on the brink of fainting. My vision started to return and it was getting slightly easier to manipulate the plush ball.
"Halfway there," Stacy told me.
My condition stabilized at head-spinning; I did not feel an urge to throw up, though I wanted SO bad to take a nap right then and there. Looking across the way, I could see that Marcy had to switch arms for donating, and was eventually on a roll. She was seated after I was, yet was able to get up and walk away before I regained my bearings.
"Three quarters of the way there; almost at the finish line," Stacy told me. What the heck was taking so long? She drew four more beakers from me, and we were done.
The rule was to stay in the room for 15 minutes after donating in order to recover. I used every second of those 15 minutes, plus more. The nurses put more compresses on my head and neck and I stayed in the reclined position after my donation was done. When Stacy asked if I wanted to sit up, I said yes.
Bad idea.
Barely a few seconds after sitting up, my head spun and I lost most of my sight again. I asked Stacy to set me back and she went to get me a drink. After a regimen of goldfish crackers and a powerade, Stacy set me back up and passed me off to another nurse. The second nurse removed my compresses and asked how I was feeling. I was dizzy but not nauseous. Apparently that was good, and to be expected from someone donating for the first time.
I never thought a peanut butter cookie would taste so good. After I was finally able to set up without a major dizzy fit, I walked over to the refreshments table where I once again ran into Marcy. I told her about my experience and she said that's what happens to first-timers, or to people who lie about their weight to donate blood. At that point, I felt more like I woke up to a hangover. Ironically, one of the donating rules is to not have alcohol for 24 hours - or go to a hot tub or jacuzzi - or to engage in strenuous activity - and to eat a hearty meal as soon as possible.
One year ago this month, I signed up to be on the national bone marrow registry. This past summer, I signed up to be an organ donor. Today, I donated blood. What those experiences taught me is that we all have the capability and the willpower to make a difference in someone else's life.
Seeing so many of my fellow students selflessly donating blood - even if for a competition with another university, made me think to myself if people are willing to donate blood, why are they then so skittish about donating their organs - or even their bone marrow. We have nothing to fear by sharing a piece of fabric from our being with another human being. We shouldn't have anything to fear by giving a part of ourselves so someone's daughter or son can make it to their own graduation day. We're all on the same path in this life, and sometimes we need to help each other along the way.
Yes, we really do save lives.
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