SO Margaret of Straight Up - No Chaser recently posted a story that illustrated who she is. Her story, her blog in general, is wicked funny and worth a read. She did end the story with a "your turn" sort of challenge.
I have written about this before -- giving blood:
My first husband was a community spirited, giving back kind of guy, and that is extremely admirable. He may have gone too far, though, when he convinced me, many years ago, to go with him to donate blood. As he pointed out at the time, I was young and healthy. I should feel a responsibility to help those in need. It was an easy thing to do. He did it on a regular basis. They give you juice and a donut when you are done. A donut? You should have lead with that! Okay, all ready. I went with him to the Congregational Church where the Red Cross was having a blood drive.
I was given some paperwork to fill out. Obviously, the purpose of the sticker was to prompt others, workers and donors alike, to say, "Don't worry. It doesn't hurt a bit." The person who handed me the paper work said exactly that.
A nurse pricked my finger and knocked a drop of blood into a little vial of some kind of liquid. I think the drop was supposed to sink to the bottom, but it just sat there until the nurse whacked the vial a few times and announced, "There it goes! Don't worry. This doesn't hurt a bit."
So I stretch out on a cot. I hate needles so I look away and close my eyes besides. The nurse says, "Just a little prick and it won't hurt after that." Don't think I didn't notice the change in tune from "just a little prick" to "after that is won't hurt."
The nurse walked away after that little prick and I was left there thinking, "Damn! This does so hurt! A lot! It hurts a lot!"
The guy on the next cot asked me how I was doing and I said aloud, "I don't care what they say, this hurts."
"Oh!" he said. "Oh, nurse! Come here, please. Something's wrong." That's when I looked. There was a large purple mass growing over my elbow. The needle had pierced my vein and the blood was just puddling under my skin instead of going into the collection bag. The nurse pulled out the needle. If she said something soothing, I didn't hear it. What I did hear was her asking me if she could try the other arm.
"Good god, NO. Give me my donut and let me out of here!" Use my other arm? You've got to be kidding me. What kind of sadistic medical professional would even ask me something like that?
I have written about this before -- giving blood:
My first husband was a community spirited, giving back kind of guy, and that is extremely admirable. He may have gone too far, though, when he convinced me, many years ago, to go with him to donate blood. As he pointed out at the time, I was young and healthy. I should feel a responsibility to help those in need. It was an easy thing to do. He did it on a regular basis. They give you juice and a donut when you are done. A donut? You should have lead with that! Okay, all ready. I went with him to the Congregational Church where the Red Cross was having a blood drive.
The volunteer greeting us at the door gave me a sticker: "Be nice to me. It's my first time!" Goody, a sticker. What am I? In first grade?
I was given some paperwork to fill out. Obviously, the purpose of the sticker was to prompt others, workers and donors alike, to say, "Don't worry. It doesn't hurt a bit." The person who handed me the paper work said exactly that.
A nurse pricked my finger and knocked a drop of blood into a little vial of some kind of liquid. I think the drop was supposed to sink to the bottom, but it just sat there until the nurse whacked the vial a few times and announced, "There it goes! Don't worry. This doesn't hurt a bit."
So I stretch out on a cot. I hate needles so I look away and close my eyes besides. The nurse says, "Just a little prick and it won't hurt after that." Don't think I didn't notice the change in tune from "just a little prick" to "after that is won't hurt."
The nurse walked away after that little prick and I was left there thinking, "Damn! This does so hurt! A lot! It hurts a lot!"
The guy on the next cot asked me how I was doing and I said aloud, "I don't care what they say, this hurts."
"Oh!" he said. "Oh, nurse! Come here, please. Something's wrong." That's when I looked. There was a large purple mass growing over my elbow. The needle had pierced my vein and the blood was just puddling under my skin instead of going into the collection bag. The nurse pulled out the needle. If she said something soothing, I didn't hear it. What I did hear was her asking me if she could try the other arm.
"Good god, NO. Give me my donut and let me out of here!" Use my other arm? You've got to be kidding me. What kind of sadistic medical professional would even ask me something like that?
Call me selfish, but I happen to be using all my blood. That's how it's gonna stay.
OMG, that is just awful. My sister donates blood annually. There was one time they rejected her because she was anemic. So, she began taking Centrum Silver (multivitamin pill) and her hemoglobin went up and she was no longer anemic. So, she still donates blood.
ReplyDeleteSelf-preservation is a powerful instinct! B gives blood on a regular basis. But when they take blood from me, I faint. So, no thanks!
ReplyDeleteWow, talk about a bad first impression! I wonder how long the bruise lasted? Did you get the donut??
ReplyDeleteI have never given blood. I don't do well with blood, especially my own.
ReplyDeleteGreat job of story telling!
Giving blood is the only altruistic thing I do. I don't get a thing out of it, but someone else does.
ReplyDeleteConsider trying again!
Wow, what an awful experience. Can see why it was your last. When I gave regularly years ago, you had the choice of a donut or a shot of whisky. We always took the whisky for when you are a pint low, it really hits you. I understand they don't do that anymore.
ReplyDeleteYeah, you did it. Everyone else said they "got nothin'"
ReplyDeleteFirst of all, thank you for those kind words!
Second of all, I hope they gave you a dozen donuts!
Did your husband suggest you go again or did he know better? :-)
We got divorced so he never had the chance (it wasn't entirely te giving blood). They call it the door slam. When I am done, I'm done.
DeleteI passed out on my first experience giving blood. I did continue to donate however. Then there was my friend Nena who was donating blood and they kept wondering why the bag wasn't filling when they could see the blood entering the tube. Well the end of the tube was in her purse that was filling with blood. Yikes!!
ReplyDeleteI used to donate blood at least once a year when I was a young teacher. Our district would have a blood drive, and the van would pull into the parking lot so we could donate. Luckily, I never had your experience or they would have had one less doner! Hope you're enjoying fall, Olga.
ReplyDeleteI offered to donate blood for a friend when young in college, but for whatever reason after they typed me didn’t take any. I never knew why at the time, but never offered to donate blood again. Since I’ve had multiple vials taken for various lab work ups. Some are better than others taking the blood.
ReplyDeleteThat's funny. I kind of appreciate having Diabetes just so I can say No when asked to donate. They don't want my blood and it doesn't hurt my feelings one bit.
ReplyDelete