Yesterday, I gave blood on the American Red Cross 'Bloodmobile' in Summerville. And THAT was fun. I am 0 positive so I try to make myself do it. Besides, it is just a good thing to do, right? The problem is that I don't respond well to giving blood. Oh, I start out just fine; a little nervous, but fine. And I learned not to look when the needle gets within about a foot or so of me, so that doesn't really bother me anymore. But I guess when my body registers that I have lost fluid, it tends to overreact.
Now I think that the American Red Cross has some awesome staff. They are always nice to me and very considerate. They really try to make me as comfortable as possible. I've had one poor woman stand over me fanning me with a file folder at one point (both arms, mind you). I usually end up with a drink or something else before I get out of the bed thing too. They always have to baby me some but they never seem to mind or give me that "You're a waste of my time" look. That's one reason I don't mind going through the ordeal every few months. The occasional free Chik-Fil-A coupon is also pretty motivational.
But I had a revelation a few years ago and I guess I just got cocky. I figured out that if I eat something right before I go, I don't tend to get any of the nausea or dizzyness. I feel a little shaky right after but otherwise alright. This seemed to work so well that I was actually very seriously considering donating platelets (an hour long process with a needle in your arm). Well, I think God decided yesterday to make it clear to me that was a not a good idea for me. I got in there and I filled my bag but then...Mama mia. Probably the worst it's hit me in the last couple of years. I was so sure I was about to lose my lunch that I had staked out the nearest trash can and figured out how to get to it with my arm, needle and bag in tow. Then came the spots and dizzyness -- the closest I'll ever come to finding out what the 60's were like. If this has ever happened to you, you know that next it just seems incredibly hot in there. So I now know what it was like during an African summer in the 60's with an upset stomach. Poor people of yesteryear.
Well, I'm sure you're all glad to know, I did make it. Once again, the staff was wonderful. My feet in the air, very cold newly acquired Sprite in my hand and tummy (which I felt it my duty to dump all over my shoulder as well), and cold towel on my forehead (she offered to put one on the back of my neck too), I managed to make it through. And eventually, on shaky legs, to leave the site of my embarrassment, peanuts in hand. Wonder what will happen next time. I keep thinking I'll grow out of it. I handle it better now than the first time. So I guess, at this rate, when I'm about 90, it'll be no sweat (literally). Huh.
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