On this day 7 years ago I donated blood for the first time. This is my story.
I should tell you I'm not afraid of needles, I don't faint at the sight of blood or the site of blood. I am unperturbed by blood unless it is gushing out of my forehead from either side of an axehead. So when I trekked into my local blood donor clinic, veins held high, ready to give blood and find out my blood type, I was not worried. My plan was to confirm the results that I got from testing my own blood type at home with an Eldoncard. I would then go home immediately to devour 14 blocks of cheese. People with type B blood you see are the only ones who can eat 14 blocks of cheese without experiencing any gut trouble, according to the book Eat Right For Your Type. I thought I was a B- but I wanted it confirmed so I could continue to eat lots of cheese.
I also wanted to give blood, because I can't think of a faster or easier way to save a life than by sitting in a chair for 7 minutes and then eating cookies.
As soon as I got to the blood donor clinic I was informed that it would take 8-12 weeks before I was told what my blood type was. Right there and then, when things started going off script, I should have been spooked. But I wasn't. I ploughed forward, shoving my veins at anyone who I thought might want to poke them.
And poke they did. A nurse asked me if I was O.K. as she positioned a needle over my finger, I said, yup, I'm fine and away we went. The first poke was to see if I had enough hemoglobin in my blood. I did. After answering several questionnaires and declaring I'd never had intimate relations with anyone who had spent time in a Turkish prison, I was ushered into a blood donation chair.
They asked me if I was O.K., I said yup, and they slid a needle into my arm. Then I just sat there as the bag beside me filled up with my hopefully Type B blood and sloshed around. I smirked a little with pride as the woman taking my blood told me I was a good bleeder and I should be done in no time. I've always been a bit of an overachiever. I don't even have to try. I'm quite amazing.
About 7 minutes later my buzzer went off and I was done. My Phlebotomist removed the needle and asked me how I was. Fine. I was FINE. Stop asking me that. I'm super tough. I've pulled maggots out of a chickens ass. Seriously, just point me in the direction of the cooki ....... Uh oh. I'm super thirsty. I wonder if I should tell anyone I'm suddenly so thirsty I feel like my tongue is made of velcro. Nah.
Huh. Things seemed weird. Not fainting weird, just weird. I decided I'd better let someone know that I think they might have accidentally taken all of my blood. I wasn't mad, I just, ya know, wanted a bit back. Enough to give me the strength to make it to the snack table. I got the words "I don't fehleighvmkdmv ..." out of my mouth and in a split second a flurry of nurses were running towards me, tilting my chair back, ramming cold compresses on every inch of my exposed skin and throwing around a lot of medical terms like, "Wow. She's really sweating. Are her eyeballs sweating? I think her eyeballs are sweating."
And they were.
I was now in what felt like an almost upside down position, covered in sweat, wondering if I could telepathically tell anyone I might barf. Because I didn't have the energy to form actual words out of my mouth. Although, being a through and through Canadian I managed to eek out a thank you when one of them put a huge block of ice under my neck.
The nurses circled around me like I was Charlie Brown's Christmas Tree and told me this was perfectly normal and I'd feel better soon. No. No, this is not perfectly normal because if it was, no one would ever donate blood ever, on account of the fact that it leads to death.
Were my bowels loosening? I think my bowels were thinking of loosening. For the love of all that is holy, please don't let me be sick to my pants right here next to the snack table. This is bad. This is really bad. I rolled my eyes in a way I thought let everyone around me know I still didn't feel tip top.
Nobody seemed nearly as worried as I thought they should be. No one even tried to ask me who my next of kin were. Indeed after 7 minutes or so of sheer hell I was well enough to ask if someone could please find my iPhone, this was a definite Instagram moment.
Did I mention one of my sisters came with me and was sitting right across from me giving blood as this all went down? No? I might not have mentioned her because as they ushered me to a stretcher (once I stopped drooling), I glanced over expecting her to be crying into a lace handkerchief and forming a prayer circle. Instead she greeted me with a big smile and a wave. Like no biggee. We all die and shit our pants in public every so often.
I didn't by the way. Poop in my pants. I didn't even faint. I didn't throw up. I just decided I needed to sweat and try to nap profusely. They wouldn't let me nap though because every time I closed my eyes some nurse yelled at me to STAY WITH US. I had saliva running down my chin so I'm not sure where they thought I was going.
I still wasn't allowed to sit up, and there was great discussion about whether I should actually try to stand as I shifted over to the stretcher.
"Can your legs hold you? Do you think your legs will hold you?"
Lady, my bowels just proved to be as loyal and strong as a German Shepherd, my legs are gonna be fine.
So onto the stretcher I went, wondering how exactly I ended up here, eyes toward the ceiling, my pint of blood probably lonely and scared in some cooler somewhere. Who DOES this? I mean people do this all the time but who ARE they? From my vantage point on the stretcher I could pretty much stare at everyone without fear of seeming suspicious and gawky because I was obviously in distress and possibly even suffering from some sort of brain damage.
Across the way I saw a girl of about 19 who I recognized as a cashier from my local garden centre. She was fine. Beside her was a man around 70 sounding a bit crotchety and letting the Phlebotomist know they should use his other arm; they always use his other arm. He was fine. Eating their recuperation snacks and juice were a wealthy looking woman and a friend of the 19 year old. They were fine. There were white people and brown people, women and men, young and old. All of them spending the end of their holiday Monday in a church community room giving blood for someone they've never met, would never meet and who would never get the chance to thank them. Why is giving blood so easy for them? Why not me?
When I was finally able to sit myself up, an organizer brought me some juice and thanked me for coming out. She kneeled down close to me, touched my knee and in a concerned voice, gently whispered into my ear "Did we get a full pint out of you?"
I laughed so hard I thought blood was going to start gushing out of the pinprick in my arm again. I don't blame her. I wasn't insulted. Getting and giving blood is important stuff. YUP. You got the full pint and judging by the way I feel, you got one of those big pints. You super-sized it.
The nurses who flurried towards me earlier all asked if I was feeling O.K. and of course I said Yes.
I'm fine.
I'm super tough.
I've picked maggots out of a chicken's ass.
Or as I'll say from here on in;
I'm fine.
I'm super tough.
I've given blood ... without losing control of my bowels.
That was a pretty funny post, right? Wanna read something even funnier? I gave blood again.
Patti
Oh Karen, you're braver than I am.
You just nailed my last experience when donating blood in such a big way - I will now just send people to this post whenever the topic comes up because I couldn't describe it nearly as accurately. It's such a scene (and totally terrifying, except that you're too weak to be terrified) with all the nurses yelling "ice" and tipping you upside down and packing you with ice as you just try to stay conscious - we went with my work, and I was so embarrassed, it was beyond words. I haven't donated, since. And I know it's been forever, because the day was a big one - I was watching the inauguration of Barack Obama, full of hope, when he was in the midst of his acceptance speech and suddenly I was in a tunnel - the peripherals of my vision were turning black, and he was floating far, far, away. When I realized I was about to pass out, I tried to call out for help, but I couldn't open my mouth, so I tried desperately to grab their attention with my eyes, and that didn't work, so when a nurse came to check on me, I mustered a very quiet "help" and that was the last word I could squeak out.
The reason she asked if they got a whole pint is because that way, your donation was not in vain! My understanding is that if you're at risk of fainting before the bag is full, the way they remove it doesn't follow the protocol and risks contamination - so I was told my blood would just be discarded. I'd felt lightheaded the previous time I'd donated (when the nurse asked how I was I said "you know, just enjoying the buzz" and she was all "you're not supposed to be lightheaded" and ripped out my needle, tipped me upside down, etc.) and the blood was also wasted, so now I am too afraid, and instead, wallow in shame every three days when Canadian Blood Services calls, asking me to donate. You're a stronger woman than I am, Karen. I'm too chicken to go back!
Jim Barry
"...sick in my pants..." ROFLMAO :)
Leticia
Little jealous. I can't donate blood. :(
Many people on long term medication cannot, I'm one of them. While I understand that the meds in my blood would poison anyone who received it, I'm sorry I can't play.
This is probably payback for all those years I joked with tiny girls "You probably can't even donate blood". In Brazil the cut-off weight is 50 kilos, around 110 pounds.
I'm glad you did it, whether you pooped on your pants or not. Now I can live vicariously through you.
Karen
Yes, it's the same worldwide in terms of weight Leticia. :) It may have been why I went down. I don't own a scale so I'm not sure what I weight but it's around that. Maybe if I gorge on pizza from now until the next time it'll go better. Good excuse. ~ karen!
Lynn
I have to commend you an all the rest you you that give Blood.
Even though I would love to give blood I have never been allowed due to meds. Even when I have had to go in for surgery they wouldn't let me give blood in case I might need some during the surgery. Which really irked me to no end, not being able to give for my self.
Every time I hear a blood drive is going on I feel the urge to be first in the chair. Knowing that I will be rejected has been a very sore spot for me since I turned of age to give blood.
It's like being told you are not up top par.
So again I say thank you to all you that give Blood.
Nicole Sparks
I had the exact same thing happen to me the last time I donated (and I'd given before with no problem). I thought "I don't feel so..." and went to put my hand on the bed thing, and the next thing I knew I was on the floor. Since this was a blood drive at my office, it was a bit embarrassing. But I think I managed to get out of a really dull meeting by saying I was still recovering, so it wasn't all that bad.
Jeanette
First time I went, I was just turned 18 years old. Went on my own, just after work. Had no problems, gave my pint in record time, gulped the juice and cookies and ran down the street to meet the boyfriend and go out. Then the letter came announcing my awesome O-negative blood and begging me to go back as often as I could. So when the allotted period had passed, I went back. T
When I nearly passed out was when the reception-lady looked at my card and turned round and said to a colleague "are we triple-bagging O-negs today?" "THREE PINTS ! !" I squeaked. NO, not 3 pints, turns out what they did was put the one pint into 3 smaller bags to conserve that good blood.
Melanie
See if they can adjust down the draw rate (or whatever it's called). I am also a fast bleeder and used to get a bit woozy - nothing like upside down and sick to the pants - but they may be able to slow the flow a bit with the little wheel-y clampish thing on the tube so you don't die next time.
MindyK
That's pretty much what happened to me every time I tried to give blood. Upside down, packed in ice, sweating. And oddly deaf. The Red Cross finally asked me to please stop volunteering. Apparently they can't use partial donations, so it's just a waste of everyone's time. (THAT is why they asked if you had finished your pint!)
I have learned the hard way that I also get woozy when they take those itty bitty test tubes of blood required when you have a blood test for, say, a physical. I have one of those coming up next month. I'm already hoarding Snickers bars in preparation.
Karen
omg that's a brilliant, meaningful way to work Snickers bars into my diet. ~ karen!
Catherine Hamilton
Congratulations. You have done a very, very good thing.
Next time, be sure you have had a lot of water during the day before you go to the clinic, and it isn't frowned upon if you take a juice from the volunteers before hand (not too sure about the cookies, though!). That way, if you haven't had enough liquid during the day, you can top yourself up before you actually donate.
Jody
The best part of that saga is you will be going back to give more.
kathy
Having survived, was she checking to see if your pint needed to be topped off? Good description of how that made you laugh. It must have been some abnormal way they sapped the blood out of you as I've seen pics of what you accomplish, the garden most recently, outdoor furniture and pizza oven. And unlike me, who after giving birth said "I'll never do that again" you plan on going back. My next 2 kids were not planned and it hurt each time.
Karen
It felt very much like I blinked my eyes and a posse of vampires descended on me, sucked out all my blood, then left me there to poop. ~ karen!
Mary W
I always say 'fine' when anyone asks - I assume they don't really care but are just being polite or saying it out habit like 'hi, nice day'. I didn't think I was emotional but just the opposite, more realistic. I'm not insecure nor neurotic, either. Just know that most people don't even listen to your answer unless you complain about some thing, then they assume you are a 'complainer'. I'm just trying to figure out how that previous comment pertains to me. Actually I usually respond 'finer that frogs hair' which normally is brings a smile - no matter how freaking yucky I may feel. Blood donors are 'true' life savers!
aAron Soderberg
"Finer than Frog's Hair..." I use that one as well, often to puzzled looks akin to the ones expressed by opossum caught ambling across the driveway. I also have a response for "Hang in there...", which is "I'm hanging in there like a cat hair on a grilled cheese sandwich." That one is not as confusing as the "frog's hair" one; people sometimes don't get the fact that you know that frog's hair would be so fine as to be invisible. Nope, a cat hair on a grilled cheese sandwich tenacity is pretty darn self-explanatory! Keep up the obscure cliché-dropping. It's "fine". :D
Mary W
Your reply was as cute as a speckled pup under a painted red wagon!
Pam B
Hiya Karen!!! (I'm a bit of a stalker---always read, but rarely comment). So very proud of you, for giving and for being determined to give again. I've donated over 5 gallons over the past 30 or so years. I've had a couple of those woozy times too. I learned to eat a good meal before going to give and that seemed to do the trick. Maybe try that next time??? Anyhoo, good luck to giving in the future. Blessed be, hugs!!!
Karen
Well Pam B welcome to commenting! And I did eat before I went. :( Steak, Swiss chard, an apple, cheese and a cookie! ~ karen
Pam B
Well geeze, not sure what else I can tell you then, lol. That's a lot better than I usually ate (or eat now for that matter). Hugs!!!
Sue
What temperature was it outdoors? The reason I ask...? I've given blood for decades and the only times I've had a problem were during very hot weather. You make it sound equal parts funny and scary (chicken butt maggots...UGH) but I vote for scary or at least disorienting and vulnerable. ANYway, the announcers can beg and cajole for donors all they want but these veins do not show up when the temperature is 90 F or above.
Karen
I can't really remember. It wasn't that hot though, it hasn't been that hot other than the past couple of days. :) ~ karen!
Linda in Illinois
I truly laughed so hard that I was crying... you are the best ever.. thank you for your donation and for not pooping your pants, puking or fainting..
Karen
It was my pleasure to not poop, puke or pass out. :) ~ karen!
Jan in Waterdown
You do know what "fine" means? Fucked up. Insecure. Neurotic. Emotional.
Maybe next time you should come up with a different answer!
Karen
Ha! Maybe I'll still say fine next time but I'll say your long version. Maybe they'll kick me out and I won't have to near vomit/poop again. ~ karen!
Wendi
The same thing happened to me the first time I gave blood. And just like you, I vowed to try again. After it happened the second time I decided that I'd need to find another way to help my fellow man! lol
susan g
wish I could still donate. aged out - really upset when I got that letter. giving blood did not work as well as platelets. thank you for giving, it really means alot
Dale Lacina
The Best Man for my wedding, during college, donated blood with his Fraternity. Went to a beer party that night. Two beers. We carried him home.
Motto: No alcohol after donation....period!!!
leo muzzin
Good job! I hope your experience does not deter anyone from donating. I have given numerous times in the past trying to give back what I received. I am AB RH negative .... a rare vintage apparently. LOL I stopped going because I was turned away due to low red blood cell count. Now I am thinking " geritol " and more spinach from the garden! LOL
Karen
I think it's more likely that people will want to go and donate to prove they're tougher than I am. ;) ~ karen!