I donated blood (blooooooooood) today! I did something good, felt good about doing it and (my favorite part), I got as much apple juice and trail mix that I could possible stomach for doing it. I started to make a list of possible to-do-goals last night and out of the 60 or so ideas that I brainstormed, I choose to go with the blood donating. I talked my mom into accompanying me through the extravaganza, which she was more than willing to do. So we got their and filled in an info sheet or two, answered a couple personal health questions, waited in the "Waiting Room" (which was more of a corner than a
room) and then I was called into a small room with a plaque that read "Interview Room" (which really was a room). The lady pricked my finger and filled a narrow tube with bloody redness. The prick was barely noticeable and the tube resembled the small container that holds the lead found in a mechanical pencil. She placed the tube in what looked like a large Jello mold, closed the lid and pushed a button which made the machine spin the shit out of the tube and produced a mild revving noise. Then she did some more basic looking tests (take my temperature, pulse and weight). The Jello blood machine had finished its routine and she took out the tube and said that the plasma/blood looked good (it looked the same either way to me) and that I could go have a seat in the designated pump-your-blood chair.
My mom was already out of her "interview" and sitting in the chair to the right of me. She had some blood colored tube pumping out of the inside of her left elbow as she gently squeezed what looked like a heart shaped stress reliever. Within minutes I was in the same situation, the foamy heart toy in hand, the connecting tubes, and an apple juice bottle at my side. I was instructed to softly squeeze the heart every couple minutes and to just ask if I needed another juice. the designated poker (I don't think he was a doctor but a nice guy either way, so I'll just refer to him as the poker) cleaned of my future puncture wound and assured me that this is totally safe and I wouldn't die or anything. I wasn't scared but maybe I gave him that vibe, or maybe he just gives the same speech to all his puncturees. He kept going on about how I can stop if I don't feel comfortable (which is hard to do in those chairs) and that there is no obligation. He asked me if I wanted to look away when it came for him to stab me, I said that I would enjoy watching. So, I tried to change the subject by asking him what determines your blood type. He gave me some answer that was convincing but never actually answered my question and then busted out the needle. He described it as a pinching feeling, and in hindsight, so would I. The blood was being pumped smoothly as I gently gripped the little sponge heart. I asked some more questions and drank some more juice and donated some more blood. This went on for a good ten minutes. Once a pint was reached, the poker clamped the newly red tubes and asked which color bandage I would like. Green, of coarse. He thanked me and I thanked him and I went to eat some trail mix and drink some more apple juice. I sat down with my mom who was drinking water and sporting a sweet purple bandage bracelet. It was a great experience that made me proud of the project. We did something good and learned a little about blood. Now I'm a little light headed and might go take a nap. Goodnight.
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| Good ol' Mama |
My mom was already out of her "interview" and sitting in the chair to the right of me. She had some blood colored tube pumping out of the inside of her left elbow as she gently squeezed what looked like a heart shaped stress reliever. Within minutes I was in the same situation, the foamy heart toy in hand, the connecting tubes, and an apple juice bottle at my side. I was instructed to softly squeeze the heart every couple minutes and to just ask if I needed another juice. the designated poker (I don't think he was a doctor but a nice guy either way, so I'll just refer to him as the poker) cleaned of my future puncture wound and assured me that this is totally safe and I wouldn't die or anything. I wasn't scared but maybe I gave him that vibe, or maybe he just gives the same speech to all his puncturees. He kept going on about how I can stop if I don't feel comfortable (which is hard to do in those chairs) and that there is no obligation. He asked me if I wanted to look away when it came for him to stab me, I said that I would enjoy watching. So, I tried to change the subject by asking him what determines your blood type. He gave me some answer that was convincing but never actually answered my question and then busted out the needle. He described it as a pinching feeling, and in hindsight, so would I. The blood was being pumped smoothly as I gently gripped the little sponge heart. I asked some more questions and drank some more juice and donated some more blood. This went on for a good ten minutes. Once a pint was reached, the poker clamped the newly red tubes and asked which color bandage I would like. Green, of coarse. He thanked me and I thanked him and I went to eat some trail mix and drink some more apple juice. I sat down with my mom who was drinking water and sporting a sweet purple bandage bracelet. It was a great experience that made me proud of the project. We did something good and learned a little about blood. Now I'm a little light headed and might go take a nap. Goodnight.
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