I have always been a firm believer that blood was designed to stay inside the body. God put it there and, by gum, that was where I wanted it to stay! I also don't 'do' needles. I have what some, including myself, may call, a 'phobia' of needles. Given these two facts, what the heck was I doing, lying on a recliner, trying not to hyperventilate, with a needle stuck in my arm, allowing my own personal blood to go into a bag to be taken away, VOLUNTARILY!? The answer is Scarlett.
Scarlett is a baby who should have parents that are worried about especially stinky diapers, the sniffles, and trying to decide if now is the time to put all the glass knick knacks on the top shelf. Instead she has parents who are worried about chemotherapy, skull reconstruction, and blood transfusions. Scarlett is a remarkable little fighter, with remarkable parents, who, several months ago, doctors had said would not see her first birthday. I am happy to tell you that I just helped her celebrate her first birthday, in a very special way, with 129 of her closest friends! I don't want to try, and fail, to tell you her story since her parents do such a good job of it in their blog, Starring Scarlett. Scarlett's parents organized a blood drive for her first birthday and since it was for this great family and this remarkable little girl, I decided that this would be the one that would pull me past my fears. They asked for ideas about what to name the blood drive. Someone came up with "Scarlet for Scarlett." I guess that's ok...I liked mine better though. "Frankly Scarlett, I do give a damn!" (That's probably what they called it secretly)
So back to me, on the recliner remember? Don't like blood. I like what blood does, in theory, I just don't want to see it. It feeds the body, it carries oxygen, it cleans up on the inside, it even heals. And still, I'm just not a blood guy. I don't even like to see it if I can help it. Sylvia and I have a system. If there is a surgery show on TV she'll say, "Don't look...not yet...ew...oh that's awesome...ok now you can look." I come from a line of people who say things like, "so in your surgery the doctor took the nee...and the bloo...aaa...." WHAM! Sack of potatoes, fainted and on the ground! I have never fainted, personally, but I'm sure that it's only because I am careful.
I signed up both Sylvia and I for donating from a link on their blog and started the long process of waiting. I had a date set, I had someone to go with, I had a really good reason, and I started saying, "I am going to give blood." (as opposed to I am going to try to give blood.) In my mind I pictured everyone going off to someplace private where no one could see my apprehension. The reality was that there was a row of these donating chairs and a multitude of people giving blood. Sylvia was not phased. She had done this many times before. She said that the ones that she had done at her high school were even more crowded than this! Not this cowboy! I was glad there were only about eight. I have to say 'about' because I was not about to look over at all of them. They all had people who weren't afraid of blood or needles. I didn't want to see that.
Kristiana, who desperately wanted to donate but couldn't because she was a few months shy of the cutoff, took this picture. She kept saying, "Dad, will you just open your eyes!" Thank you no, Honey, I am facing a bunch of people hooked up to blood stuff and needles. I can have my eyes closed if I want to. They also told us at check in that if you were a first time donor you got a special sticker and they were nicer to you. I asked for 8 stickers so they would be 8 times nicer to me. I laughed. Sylvia stuck them in a line on my shirt.
Now concerning needles. I stepped into a bee's nest as a child and was chased down a country road, along with my screaming younger brother, as we were enveloped in a stinging swarm. I gotta tell you, I never watched "Winnie the Pooh" try to get honey from a hive the same way again! Add to this a helpful nurse who said, as she was poised to give me a shot, "It's just a little bee sting." and the connection was made. I use the word phobia when I talk about needles but it truly may not be a doctor's definition of phobia. The reason I call it that is because my fear keeps me from doing things that I would like to do. I nearly hyperventilated when I had to give a blood sample in December of 94 so we could get married. (Then pounded my fist when I heard that as of January 95 blood tests were no longer needed to get married!) I once had an uncomfortable medical procedure done without anesthesia because I would rather not have a shot. (My sister, the nurse, said that people under anesthesia can't even handle it...I explained that I was motivated!) Even now I am avoiding getting a vaccine to avoid shingles. I have had shingles in the past, twice!, and the doctors think it would behoove me to avoid this painful disease that lasts for about a month by getting a shot ...but that's just it. It's a shot.
Getting ready for donating was both easy and hard. They said it would go easier if I was well hydrated so for the last week I have been drinking water like it was on sale! They said that I should eat a good meal the day I donate. Also, solely in preparation for donating I assure you, I have not been skipping any meals! And then there were the 'helpful' people in my life. When I posted on Facebook (which you should go to and like my blog page...there's a button conveniently placed in this blog by the way) that I was giving blood and that I was more than a little nervous about it. I got all sorts of advice. One friend even wrote, "Don't think about the blood. Think about your life slowly draining from your body." Thanks Joe. You're a pal! Sylvia, who has had blood drawn more times than I care to think about, kept saying, "It's such a small needle. It's even a smaller needle than the needle they use when they use a blood drawing needle at the doctor's office. NEEDLE!" That's great Honey, but you seem to be missing something. Oh well, this will all be funny stuff for the blog.
Back to the event. I had signed us up to go down early in the morning. I am a get it over with kind of guy. Then we had a conflict that would have made it hard to come and we would have to miss Jacob's basketball game in the weekend's tournament so I volunteered to go down and try to change our appointment. When I was there I got to see, for the first time, that I would have to be sitting and watching a lot of other people giving blood. Is the room spinning? I changed the appointment to a half hour before the end and went to the game. All the while I kept telling Sylvia, "Hydrate! Get ready! Drink!" (Jake won...by the way!)
When we came home we ate (that was a rule, remember?) and waited until our time had come. There were loads of people who I thought were celebrating her birthday (I was young and foolish) and I soon learned that they had already checked in and were waiting to be called into the donating room. We were given questionnaires that asked all sorts of personal things. I checked everything the right way, apparently, and they poked my finger with a needle to check my blood! It was red. They took my blood pressure and told me that it was twenty points higher than when I checked it at home just an hour earlier. It was really high but they said I was good to go. And then we waited. There were about eight people waiting to go and sit in the blood draw chairs. One by one they were taken to the process. I looked around to see if I could find someone that I would choose to do mine. None of them were dressed like Dracula, I guess any of them would be fine.
Sylvia got called. I got called. And they started the process. I was scrubbed, blood pressured again, they gave me a squeeze ball, and told me to breathe...something I tend to stop doing whenever I am near needles, and then she went to get the collection bag. And she was gone for a while. I kept hearing things like, "Well we can take this off of that and use it." and "I cannot believe they didn't provide us with 30% more supplies than we have appointments." And then Mary Jane, who was my nurse, came to me and said that they had run out of bags but more were coming and it would be about twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of me sitting there thinking about what was about to happen. Twenty minutes of watching other people in the middle of their process. Twenty minutes of seeing the nurses tagging, and clipping, and storing all the bags that they had already collected in coolers at my feet. And then, as it turned out, it would be twenty minutes alone because Sylvia had already been cutting it close, time wise, and needed to go before she would be able to donate.
I have to tell you. I thought, "Heck! This is good! I can get credit for coming down and being willing while not having to actually get the needle. But I figured this would be like the time I went bungee jumping. I was hooked up and ready to go but almost chickened out. The guy said, if you don't do it now you'll never do it. AAAAAAAAaaaaaaa..... I jumped then, and I would do this now. Sylvia called my mom to come get me and I waited. This was when I found out that Mary Jane wouldn't be the only person to help me. There's something about a giant wimpy guy with a big bushy beard. If someone like that shows that they are weak people tend to feel sorry for them. I had about four nurses attending to me at any given time.
When the supplies came in for the few of us remaining everyone cheered. I started to think, well here we go. Well here we go. Well here we go. This was my last chance. I desperately said, "Couldn't you just punch me in the face and hold a bucket under my nose?" Mary Jane re-scrubbed my arm and told me that something like, "You've got really good veins. This won't be bad at all." And then I was stuck. I had been paying attention to some of the others who had been hooked up and then unhooked due to one reason or another...I hoped that wouldn't be me. If I went through with this I better save someone's life for crying out loud! When I mentioned that it actually did hurt a little, Mary Jane said, "That's probably the antiseptic. You have a firehose...you are already half done!" (Did I mention that I hydrated?)
And then she walked away! I know that no one was being attended to the whole time they were donating but listen up lady! Did you not see that I have eight stickers!? Add to that the unrealistic vision I had of my bag overflowing (hydration's the key really) and I began to worry. One of the other nurses came over and said, "Almost there...*beepbeepbeep*...done! I assumed my non-breathing, look away, wince, and clench my fist mode when the nurse said, "What are you doing? It's all done. You are unhooked." Ok, so I guess it wasn't that bad.
They all said that I should lay there for an extra ten minutes longer than most people and that was fine with me since I was dizzy (probably from not breathing) and then it was done. I got up. I walked to the door. And got some cookies and ice cream. I wore my blood donation bandage like a badge of honor for the rest of the night but nobody at the store asked me about it. Next time I am wearing all of my stickers! And if you'll excuse me, I am going to go eat a big meal...you know, to get ready for next year!
Scarlett is a baby who should have parents that are worried about especially stinky diapers, the sniffles, and trying to decide if now is the time to put all the glass knick knacks on the top shelf. Instead she has parents who are worried about chemotherapy, skull reconstruction, and blood transfusions. Scarlett is a remarkable little fighter, with remarkable parents, who, several months ago, doctors had said would not see her first birthday. I am happy to tell you that I just helped her celebrate her first birthday, in a very special way, with 129 of her closest friends! I don't want to try, and fail, to tell you her story since her parents do such a good job of it in their blog, Starring Scarlett. Scarlett's parents organized a blood drive for her first birthday and since it was for this great family and this remarkable little girl, I decided that this would be the one that would pull me past my fears. They asked for ideas about what to name the blood drive. Someone came up with "Scarlet for Scarlett." I guess that's ok...I liked mine better though. "Frankly Scarlett, I do give a damn!" (That's probably what they called it secretly)
So back to me, on the recliner remember? Don't like blood. I like what blood does, in theory, I just don't want to see it. It feeds the body, it carries oxygen, it cleans up on the inside, it even heals. And still, I'm just not a blood guy. I don't even like to see it if I can help it. Sylvia and I have a system. If there is a surgery show on TV she'll say, "Don't look...not yet...ew...oh that's awesome...ok now you can look." I come from a line of people who say things like, "so in your surgery the doctor took the nee...and the bloo...aaa...." WHAM! Sack of potatoes, fainted and on the ground! I have never fainted, personally, but I'm sure that it's only because I am careful.
I signed up both Sylvia and I for donating from a link on their blog and started the long process of waiting. I had a date set, I had someone to go with, I had a really good reason, and I started saying, "I am going to give blood." (as opposed to I am going to try to give blood.) In my mind I pictured everyone going off to someplace private where no one could see my apprehension. The reality was that there was a row of these donating chairs and a multitude of people giving blood. Sylvia was not phased. She had done this many times before. She said that the ones that she had done at her high school were even more crowded than this! Not this cowboy! I was glad there were only about eight. I have to say 'about' because I was not about to look over at all of them. They all had people who weren't afraid of blood or needles. I didn't want to see that.
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| Sylvia and I waiting to be called...Me with my eyes closed |
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| Kristiana helped at the blood drive by holding Scarlett the whole time we were there! |
Now concerning needles. I stepped into a bee's nest as a child and was chased down a country road, along with my screaming younger brother, as we were enveloped in a stinging swarm. I gotta tell you, I never watched "Winnie the Pooh" try to get honey from a hive the same way again! Add to this a helpful nurse who said, as she was poised to give me a shot, "It's just a little bee sting." and the connection was made. I use the word phobia when I talk about needles but it truly may not be a doctor's definition of phobia. The reason I call it that is because my fear keeps me from doing things that I would like to do. I nearly hyperventilated when I had to give a blood sample in December of 94 so we could get married. (Then pounded my fist when I heard that as of January 95 blood tests were no longer needed to get married!) I once had an uncomfortable medical procedure done without anesthesia because I would rather not have a shot. (My sister, the nurse, said that people under anesthesia can't even handle it...I explained that I was motivated!) Even now I am avoiding getting a vaccine to avoid shingles. I have had shingles in the past, twice!, and the doctors think it would behoove me to avoid this painful disease that lasts for about a month by getting a shot ...but that's just it. It's a shot.
 |
| Me, hooked up and trying to take a picture without looking. |
Back to the event. I had signed us up to go down early in the morning. I am a get it over with kind of guy. Then we had a conflict that would have made it hard to come and we would have to miss Jacob's basketball game in the weekend's tournament so I volunteered to go down and try to change our appointment. When I was there I got to see, for the first time, that I would have to be sitting and watching a lot of other people giving blood. Is the room spinning? I changed the appointment to a half hour before the end and went to the game. All the while I kept telling Sylvia, "Hydrate! Get ready! Drink!" (Jake won...by the way!)
When we came home we ate (that was a rule, remember?) and waited until our time had come. There were loads of people who I thought were celebrating her birthday (I was young and foolish) and I soon learned that they had already checked in and were waiting to be called into the donating room. We were given questionnaires that asked all sorts of personal things. I checked everything the right way, apparently, and they poked my finger with a needle to check my blood! It was red. They took my blood pressure and told me that it was twenty points higher than when I checked it at home just an hour earlier. It was really high but they said I was good to go. And then we waited. There were about eight people waiting to go and sit in the blood draw chairs. One by one they were taken to the process. I looked around to see if I could find someone that I would choose to do mine. None of them were dressed like Dracula, I guess any of them would be fine.
Sylvia got called. I got called. And they started the process. I was scrubbed, blood pressured again, they gave me a squeeze ball, and told me to breathe...something I tend to stop doing whenever I am near needles, and then she went to get the collection bag. And she was gone for a while. I kept hearing things like, "Well we can take this off of that and use it." and "I cannot believe they didn't provide us with 30% more supplies than we have appointments." And then Mary Jane, who was my nurse, came to me and said that they had run out of bags but more were coming and it would be about twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of me sitting there thinking about what was about to happen. Twenty minutes of watching other people in the middle of their process. Twenty minutes of seeing the nurses tagging, and clipping, and storing all the bags that they had already collected in coolers at my feet. And then, as it turned out, it would be twenty minutes alone because Sylvia had already been cutting it close, time wise, and needed to go before she would be able to donate.
I have to tell you. I thought, "Heck! This is good! I can get credit for coming down and being willing while not having to actually get the needle. But I figured this would be like the time I went bungee jumping. I was hooked up and ready to go but almost chickened out. The guy said, if you don't do it now you'll never do it. AAAAAAAAaaaaaaa..... I jumped then, and I would do this now. Sylvia called my mom to come get me and I waited. This was when I found out that Mary Jane wouldn't be the only person to help me. There's something about a giant wimpy guy with a big bushy beard. If someone like that shows that they are weak people tend to feel sorry for them. I had about four nurses attending to me at any given time.
When the supplies came in for the few of us remaining everyone cheered. I started to think, well here we go. Well here we go. Well here we go. This was my last chance. I desperately said, "Couldn't you just punch me in the face and hold a bucket under my nose?" Mary Jane re-scrubbed my arm and told me that something like, "You've got really good veins. This won't be bad at all." And then I was stuck. I had been paying attention to some of the others who had been hooked up and then unhooked due to one reason or another...I hoped that wouldn't be me. If I went through with this I better save someone's life for crying out loud! When I mentioned that it actually did hurt a little, Mary Jane said, "That's probably the antiseptic. You have a firehose...you are already half done!" (Did I mention that I hydrated?)
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| The nurse saw me and took this for me. She said, "I have to back up to get the blood." Is the room spinning? |
And then she walked away! I know that no one was being attended to the whole time they were donating but listen up lady! Did you not see that I have eight stickers!? Add to that the unrealistic vision I had of my bag overflowing (hydration's the key really) and I began to worry. One of the other nurses came over and said, "Almost there...*beepbeepbeep*...done! I assumed my non-breathing, look away, wince, and clench my fist mode when the nurse said, "What are you doing? It's all done. You are unhooked." Ok, so I guess it wasn't that bad.
They all said that I should lay there for an extra ten minutes longer than most people and that was fine with me since I was dizzy (probably from not breathing) and then it was done. I got up. I walked to the door. And got some cookies and ice cream. I wore my blood donation bandage like a badge of honor for the rest of the night but nobody at the store asked me about it. Next time I am wearing all of my stickers! And if you'll excuse me, I am going to go eat a big meal...you know, to get ready for next year!
Good for you Jeff! I also am deathly afraid of needles. Dont ask me to sew on a button. I can't look at them and always turn away when they have to take blood from me. What? just 8 measily stickers? You should have been given a crown and shirt! Your Kinders would have been proud of their macho teacher!
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