Donating Blood

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Updated: 09/21/04.

Donating Blood

by H.B. Huisinga

I donated blood today.

That's such a powerful statement. Almost like, "I voted today". How inspiring each of us can be when we are given the chance to give back to the world in tiny ways.

I'm not a soldier. Not a veteran. Not a government employee. But I am learning how to give back to my community. It feels great. Awesome actually. To know that you're giving blood to help a victim of Ivan. Or a victim from a car accident. Giving back in a way that helps support and promote the greater wealth of our society.

Why don't we do this more? Why are we so scared to say, "Yes, me! I'll help!" We shun away from sticky situations, because what? We might get dirty? We might hurt more than we help? We should look within each of us, and find the greater good being served. Us.

We are our own best validation ports. Hang your hat on your own heart for awhile, Kind Sir. We'll take you in. In your worst hours of the day. After you've land blasted someone, and didn't really mean to. We'll take you in. After you cut someone off in traffic, and knew you shouldn't have. We'll take you in. After you didn't stop to help someone who so obviously needed it. We'll take you in.

We are your inner conscious. We love you when no one else will. We take you in during the coldest months. Within each of us is the power to promote and project self confidence. Within each of us is the motivation to strive for better things.

Today was my day to pick up the slack for all y'all's who stayed home to feed your cavalier notions.

I gave blood!

Well, more appropriately, I gave blood, then passed out. I'm not threatened by the sight of that red, thick stream jetting out of my arm at the speed of my heart rate. I wasn't even oogy at the site of the clamp affixed to my arm. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but I know I lost consciousness there for a bit.

I showed up at 9 am this morning to do my duty. I walked in, plunked my ID down, and answered some of the most interesting questions ever associated with giving blood. Who knew that if you lived in England for more than 6 months in the past 24 years, you couldn't give blood. I'm sure there was a good reason for this question, no doubt. I just kept giggling, thinking that maybe if I had lived in England longer than 6 months, they were afraid my blood would cause the receiver to spew English expressions. A not so pleasant side effect in the States, I'm sure.

I finished answering the questions, and was promptly pricked in the finger. To determine my iron level, I think. Anywho, my drop of blood quickly sank through a clear, blue liquid in a graduated cylinder. I sat there waiting anxiously. I thought, it's sinking, it's sinking--Is that good? Then I chanted for the droplet to raise, raise, raise--Maybe that's better? After a few moments, the Red Cross woman declared me just fine. Well, as fine as one can be having a slightly elevated blood pressure, and slightly elevated temperature. (Who knew chewing gum could raise your temperature!?)

I was prompted to read yet another piece of literature. Amazing how efficiently these people worked. Especially when trying to safeguard your privacy. It truly was an experience I'd been missing in my life. Everyone so happy to see you, because as it were--You are another warm body to them. Another warm body they can legally suck blood from, and not have parades of village idiots with torches just outside the door.

I chose my sticker, "please use my blood", and affixed it to my lengthy questionnaire. I stood proudly, and walked into the labyrinth of medical equipment... The lair of the blood sucking aristocrats. (...and loved it?)

I was asked which arm would I like to use. I was shown to a very comfortable lounge chair. I was offered water, juice and cookies. I was doted on for exactly 30 minutes. Of course. They want your blood, right. And, yes, they are going to stick a tube with a shiny thing at the end of it into your body, ask you to squeeze a ball every 5-10 seconds while you watch a portion of your life force whisked effortlessly out of your body.

I find that watching the red, thick umbilical is hypnotic. I think of how much is flowing into that little bag (one teensy pint), and who might benefit from my slight period of uncomfortableness. My co-workers are joking around me with friendly banter. The Red Cross aides even pipe up to add to the light heartedness of the situation. I find myself becoming more comfortable with the oblique situation of laying in a knock-down chair with a tube of blood spurting from my arm into its neat and tidy bagget. All while looking out the third floor windows of my office building. How serene (...and surreal).

One of the Red Cross aides announces that I'm a good girl, and have completed my donation. She clamps off the red, thick umbilical, and prepares me for.... What's this feeling of deja vu washing over me? This utter helplessness of feeling completely relaxed while poised on the brink of something really, really bad. A rush washes over my head as I slump back against the chair a little to laxly. My aid is still moving around me when she realizes I've become non-responsive. I begin to have tunnel hearing (and vision). The colors fade out of my eyesight, and I'm floating in an abyss of murky, colorless, weightless air. My vision is on the edge of spinning totally out of control.

Faintly, I hear my aid ask if I'm all right. No, I manage to shake my head twice, weakly.

"We've got a crasher." I hear her say quite calmly to the other aides.

From all sides there are suddenly people rushing around me. I'm suddenly aware of my punctured arm raised high above my body, and someone directing me to cough, cough! My pupils feel like they're dilating to the point of what, I'm not sure. And then it happens.

I'm looking peacefully out the windows of the third floor of my office building. A nice gentleman is holding a cup of water next to my mouth encouraging me to drink. My pleasant aid is asking if I'm with her or not. I manage to suck a teensy bit of water, and nod my head affirmatively. It is at this point that time seems to be completely relative to my perception. I have a feeling of remembering every moment since I woke up this morning, and yet, I can't remember what just happened. A feeling of not-quite-nausea washes over me. My forehead breaks out in a heated sweat, and I realize there is already a cold compress pressed down on my forehead. Another is being secured around my neck and chest.

"Did you eat breakfast?" My pleasant aid asks gently.

I nod my head.

"Tell me what you had?" She asks.

"Soda crackers..." I eek out. "A soda pop." I eek further.

"Diet or regular?" She prompts me again into conversation.

"Regular." I think abjectly about my response. I'm not usually a "regular, leaded" pop drinker, but this morning the dollar bill changer on my "usual" pop machine conked out. I was forced to go with the regular version.

"Good. Here, drink some more water." She offers the straw to me again, and again I take a sip.

I become aware of several of my co-workers looking on at me. The Great Train Wreck in action. A smile touches the face of one as she mouths, are you all right? Oh, yeah, I nod my head back to her. Then I rest my head back in hopes of taking a quick nap.

Which is exactly what they don't want you to do. Immediately, I'm descended upon by people telling me to flop my feet back and forth, move my legs up and down. Take another sip of water. Come back to life.

I'm too exhausted to do otherwise so I follow their instructions to the best of my abilities. I've given my life over to their's for a brief period this morning. I start to feel more like myself as the sensation of vertigo slides from my head, and back where it belongs. Held in check by the fluid of my inner ear canal.

After awhile, my aid slides my knock-down chair into my upright position. A wave of controllable uneasiness washes over me again. I tilt my head back, and take it easy.

How amazing, how efficiently these people worked. And I'm still feeling elated that I gave blood. What an odd reaction. It didn't discourage me from donating again. Actually, I felt it was my penance for not serving my fellow humanity sooner.

A little dizziness, a little vertigo, a little fainting under supervision. Don't all of our soldiers hope and pray for that kind of care and devotion when going out to battle. Most of them meet tragedy head on, alone. I had three Red Cross aides shoving cookies, juice and water down me. How icky I felt about that. Where are the cookies, juice and water on the battle field? For the people really serving our country. Just who gives my pleasant aid cookies and juice when she's volunteering in the midst of a national tragedy?

Eventually, I was able to get up with my pleasant aide's assistance, and helped over to a chair to sit for a bit longer before leaving the surreal conference room turned triage. I drank a glass of juice, and ate two cookies gluttonously. I felt humiliated through the whole oratory experience. Not because I'd fainted, but because I was eating a cookie, drinking a glass of juice while someone, somewhere is laboring in excessive heat to ensure my safety to sit and eat cookies in a third floor conference room all the while enjoying the fantastic no-clouds-in-the-sunny-sunshine day around me.

I slinked out of the triage-conference room saying my thanks to my pleasant aides, who hadn't even blinked an eye during my experience. They'd been addressing me every few minutes or so by name to ensure I was all right. Yet, I slinked out of there feeling miserable to have eaten cookies in return for possibly saving a life. For maybe the life I save won't be strong enough to eat cookies. Won't live long enough to enjoy juice. Won't even know what happened to them as they cross over into the great beyond.

I felt woozy for a period of time after my encounter with the aristocratic vampires. I relished the wooziness for its remembrance of helping when I don't feel like it. Helping when its inconvenient to me. Helping when it means I might trade my life for a greater good.

Each of us can save a life just by smiling to our neighbor. Waving to a passing stranger. Touching someone in love. And we'll never know we did.

Human beings may be a virus upon the face of Mother Earth, but we have so much more power than the worst plagues to make things right.

Hope for the opportunity to give back to society. Just the hope alone, will cause you to smile inside. Don't shirk when the opportunity presents itself. Having the balls to stand up, and do something will leave you feeling like Superman in a sea of civilians.

Live life to the fullest. We are but a mere blink in the timeless chain of Mother Earth.