No Blood For You

Ward convinced me yesterday to donate blood. Well, I don't know about convinced, really. More like coerced me into going. I thought that it would be a good adventure and that I would be giving to a good cause. Plus, I was all about the free cookies afterward.

The reason I have never donated before is because I have a small issue with needles -- heck, really anything that takes blood out of my body. I am down with shots. I could have 40 shots a day, but as soon as the blood with the tube thingy starts sucking it out, I start to sweat all over and (apparently) make weird faces. I also swear that I was having heart palpitations, but that really has nothing to do with the story ...

So, here is how my little jaunt to the blood center went:

6:30 a.m.- Ward picks me up. I bring my breakfast of toasted pitas and coffee with me. I am still not down with this, and hope that they are not open when we get there. We hear Steve Winwood on the radio and it makes me feel a little better.

6:52 a.m.- We arrive at the blood center, and see the WRTV 6 News Truck outside. Great, the news will be here to capture my dying moments. We walk up to the blood center and (just like I thought) we are too early. We go back to the car and sit. I start sweating some more, and I am convinced that the blood has drained from my face.

7:10 a.m.- I start filling out my questionnaire. No, I have not had sex for drugs. No, I have not, since 1977, used a needle for drugs not prescribed by my doctor. Interesting questions.

7:15 a.m- A man in a white lab coat takes my temperature, blood pressure and a drop of blood from my finger. He tells me that the prick is most people's worst part of giving blood. HA! He doesn't know anything.

7:20 a.m.- I am hit on by the marginally older (I would say mid 50s) man in the white lab coat. He tells me that I have beautiful handwriting. I have never heard that one before. He asks if I am a school teacher. I say no, but my HUSBAND is. He tells me that he is sure my husband treats me like a goddess. This makes me laugh uncomfortably. I can barely hear what else he is saying, because I am eyeing the blood tubes and blood sucker-outers to my left.

7:30 a.m.- I get handed my free t-shirt and coupon to Chick-Fil-A and get told to sit in a nice leather lounge chair. Ward is sitting across from me and he is laughing. I am sure that the weird faces have started now. The Channel 6 News Crew is filming about 10 feet from me. I pray that the don't come over and talk to me. I have nothing nice to say about this situation.

7:36 a.m.- My nice phlebotomist lady tries to find a vein in my left arm. I know they are there, but I am not sure how well they will participate. I cannot speak in full sentences at this time.

7:38 a.m.- I think she has found a vein because she gives me a green smooshy thing to squeeze and ties off my arm with some nice tubing. The needles goes in, and so far, so good. It wasn't that bad. I have not passed out.

7:40 a.m.- The phlebotomist lady calls over another phlebotomist lady to consult about my situation. This makes me even more nervous. I realize that I am still squeezing the green thing. I let go, but realize that I cannot open my fist. I hope that it is because I am an idiot and squeezed way to long. I refuse to look at my blood being sucked out, so I am hoping that it is in fact blood going into the bag they are studying and not some fluorescent green liquid. They continue to consult. Channel 6 News Lady (who has a strong resemblance to Rachel Dratch) comes over and tries to talk to me. The p-botomist ladies say, "Don't you talk to her!" Oh dear God, I am dying and they don't want it documented. The first p-botomist comes over to move my needle around. Apparently my blood doesn't want to leave my body. Well, duh.

7:44 a.m.- More weird faces from me, make people ask if I am okay. I say yes, but I am not. I want to cry and run out of there ASAP. My p-botomist starts moving my needle around. OUCH. That hurts. The old man to the left of me is about to be done, and he started after me. Ward is in the refreshment lounge eating cookies and juice. DAMN HIM. Damn him and his stupid good willing thoughts and nice flowing blood.

7:46 a.m.- Rachel Dratch look alike comes over to me, and asks if she could talk to me. Great. I look just fab. I don't even want to know how many pounds the cameras will add to me. Not to mention, that I have no color in my face. They point the camera in my face and ask me why I am doing this. I can't really think that quickly, because I am not really sure why, and I can't really see straight. I don't even remember what I said. Can't wait to see my big TV debut.

7:48 a.m.- My blood was flowing good for a second, but then, it stopped again. My lady tells me that if it doesn't start moving soon, we need to stop. While stopping sounds like heaven, I don't want to stop after I had come that far! The mean other p-botomist asks me if I can get to 450 ml. I am at 433. I say, "Bring it on, bitch!" Well, not really, but that would have been cool.

7:52 a.m.- There is no action. I have to stop. I think about 40 people have come and gone by now. They inform me that they have to throw away my blood because it did not make it to the 450 ml level. This upsets me. I go to the refreshment center and grab my chocolate chip cookies and leave. I wish I would have taken my bag of blood and threw it at them.

7:57 a.m.- I eat my cookies. This sucks. Give me my jammies, Regis and Kelly and Mr. Rhino Rotten Tooth. I want to go home. But, alas, I got to work.

Just like the circus, I don't think I will be returning again. I gave it the good college try, and I just don't think I am the blood donating type. It was a sign from God. I will stick to canned goods, clothes and money. I like my bodily fluids.