I went to the Winter Expo at the Carlson Center the other day – and had great and “wonderful” plans to spend some serious money (after all, Nordstrom’s was there). I had planned on buying a new pair of boots, some Cutco cutlery, and maybe some other goodies like make-up or a purse. But none of that happened; and the whole experience was quite heartbreaking (for me anyway).
So, I’m walking along minding my own business, and out of nowhere, a little voice in my ear whispers, “psst… I have a good idea…why don’t you donate some blood? Today, right now would be the PERFECT time! You’ve never done it before and only losers don’t give blood. Strangers all over the world need blood everyday and you’ve been so greedy, keeping ALL your blood to YOURSELF. I bet you don’t even have your ‘organ donor’ box checked on the back of your license, blah blah blah…”
“OK! OK!” I yell. (Inside my head, of course – I never yell at my “little voice” in public). Suddenly, I look over at my husband and hear my conscience say aloud, “Hey, I have an idea, I think I’m going to give some blood…I’ve never done it before and I want to do it today, right now. I’ve had a good breakfast and some orange juice…today would be the PERFECT day.”
I let go of his hand and marched up to the table where the nice ladies were wearing their blue paper lab coats and smiling. I would later learn that they were smiling more out of sympathy than of approval.
“I’d like to give some blood.” I was beaming; my conscience was pleased and I was feeling pretty darn good. I looked back at my husband and I was expecting him to smile and give me something like ‘two thumbs up’. But instead he had a look in his eyes that I didn’t quite recognize. I think it was something more like, “You’re a dumb shit.” He smiled and pointed to himself and then to the ATV’s. I waved goodbye and followed the nice lady in the blue paper lab coat.
I filled out some paperwork verifying that I didn’t have any communicable diseases or cooties in general, then signed on the dotted line and we were off! I climbed up onto the medical lawn furniture and awaited my fate. By now, I was a little nervous and took comfort in the nice ladies telling me how much they appreciated my donation. “Aw, it’s nothing…” I smiled back and pretended not to be nervous.
As the young lady tightened up my armband and tapped my vein, she said, “Good.” Pride filled my heart; my vein was ‘good’ … Woohoo!
She then proceeded to poke my ‘good’ vein with some kind of hollow spike conveniently attached to a small water hose. She smiled and asked if I was ok. “Yep…doin’ fine”, I said. My little voice whispered, “See… not so bad, huh?” I repeated the words aloud, “Not so bad…”
The nice lady smiled and made a joke that I don’t remember.
As the small water hose filled itself with my warm blood, I objectively considered its decent to the empty pouch next to my chair. That was blood dripping out of a living and breathing cardiovascular system. I couldn’t help but think, “This can’t be good for me.” I immediately reassured myself that people donate blood all the time and they’re fine. “Fine…” I whisper under by breath.
I looked around at the people passing by. Some of them looked at me with a twinge of pain and others looked on with inspiration. But now that I think about it, they all looked a little worried. I guess that’s human nature though…the whole “blood thing”; or more accurately, the whole “loss of blood thing”. It’s just not natural. Noble…yes. Natural…no.
But I bide my time in the chair and feel relieved when the nice lady tells me that I’m over half-way “there”…wherever “there” is. I smile weakly.
The man next to me finishes up and they unfasten him. I look down at my arm and wonder how much time I have left until they disconnect me. He thanks everyone and walks away. The blue paper lab coat turns to me, and smiles again, asking me how I feel. “Great.” I say. I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t wild about the whole idea of the spike and water hose scenario, but instead, I bit my tongue and listened to my little voice whisper words like “charitable” and “humanitarian”… I’m such a push-over.
As the nurse-lady-person pinches off the tube and cuts it, I feel slightly violated. But then she smiles again and makes me feel better. After which, she slides the hollow spike from my arm – reminding me of Neo getting wrenched from the Matrix. Ouch.
But I was still alive… I made it! Woohoo! I had donated blood! I told myself that I could do this again. It wasn’t so bad.
Then I stood up, thanked everyone and listened to them tell me how much they appreciated my donation. Not so bad. I walked around the corner to find my husband… then, it happened.
My knees started to feel a little weak and I was getting warm. “Hmm…strange feeling for a person whose doing as fine as me,” I thought.
The room started closing in on me and I knew that if I didn’t sit down right away, I would be waking up in the middle of an isle surrounded by very concerned strangers.
And what kind of message would that send to all the other people thinking about giving blood? “Oh yeah, I’m going to run right over there and let them suck the life out of me, so I can fall over half-dead just like her.” I had to find a chair.
I looked around and spotted an empty chair next to the admission booth. I was still coherent enough to smile at the attendant who I sat down next to, and say, “I just gave blood and I’m feeling a little weak.” She knew what to do; at once, she went across the isle to the Blood Donation Booth and grabbed some cookies. I called my husband and whispered, “I’m feeling a little lightheaded and I don’t know if I can stand up.” He was on his way.
The room got darker and hotter and I tried to eat a cookie, but my mouth was so dry it just wasn’t working out. The next thing I know my husband was directly in front of me. He braced my arm and led me back to the medical lawn furniture. My hero.
The smiling ladies weren’t smiling anymore; their faces were wrapped in concern. They gave me juice and icepacks and elevated my feet. They said this kind of thing happens all the time, and that I shouldn’t worry. Right.
After a few minutes, I was feeling much better and decided that I had made enough of a fuss and should be on my way.
When I was ready to go, I gingerly moved my feet to the side of the chair and found the floor. So far…so good. I stood (much slower this time) and felt my husband’s arm keeping me steady. I took a step and once again, felt a wave of heat and nausea come over me. “Nope, not yet.” I sat back down and told my husband that I was sorry. He just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
I had a Capri Sun and waited a few more minutes. I stood up again and actually felt much better. The blue paper lab coats assured me that I would be fine and that I can come right back if I needed a few more minutes. I said, “Thank you”, and we walked away.
We stopped by the Cutco Cutlery booth, but I wasn’t interested in getting any knives. A new purse didn’t even cross my mind, and winter boots sounded so heavy. I turned to my husband and said, “I just want to go home.”
“Are you serious?” He asked. “Alright! Now I know what to do next time you go shopping. Beforehand, we’ll just pop on into a blood bank…” Very funny. He’s a comedian.
All the way home my little voice was quiet. I think that it knew if it tried to talk, I wouldn’t listen to it anyway.
