Needles terrify me.
As a kid, I would kick and scream and hide under tables in attempts to get out of getting a shot.
I even told a nurse once that I felt sorry for her. When she asked why, I told her it was because she was so mean that she must not have any friends.
I will repeat, needles terrify me.
But not enough to stop me from giving blood the second I was given a chance to after turning 17.
I'm not sure what compelled me to go down to the blood drive being held in our school gym that day. Maybe it was from all the statistics I've heard - "Just one pint can save three lives!" "You may have a rare blood type that could really help us out!". Or maybe it was just the fact that you got a free t-shirt.
Either way, I walked the empty halls down to the gym in a daze, trying not to think too hard about what was about to happen. Needless to say, by the time I got down there, I was shaking. Not just little shivers you get when you feel a cool breeze. Teeth chattering, foot-tapping, leg-bouncing nervousness. So nervous, in fact, that when filling out the paperwork, I accidentally marked 'Yes' on a couple questions that didn't even apply to girls.
After finally finishing the paperwork, getting my blood pressure taken, finger pricked, and finishing my bottle of water and crackers, it was time. I walked over to the medical bed, my free t-shirt clenched in my fist. The nurse put the strap on my arm and disinfected 'the area of impact' (I wasn't sure what to actually call the area on my arm where they stuck the needle).
Then came the hard part. I had to have the gym teacher and longtime family friend come over and hold my hand as she stuck the needle in. It didn't hurt too much, but I still had tears streaming down my face, mascara running all over. She then handed me the stress ball to squeeze, pushing the blood from my arm through the needle and to the little baggie. After finally being able to breathe normally, I began trying to squeeze the blue ball she had put in my hand. One problem with that. The ball was bigger than my hand and would fall out anytime I attempted to put the least amount of pressure on it. My nurse, who, by then, was not in the mood to deal with a first-time donor who was afraid of needles, was getting tired of having to hand me the ball back every few minutes.
After looking over my progress after about five minutes, she decided that it wasn't giving a sufficient amount of blood and would try for a different vein. As you can probably guess, I wasn't too thrilled with this new idea.
In the end, she would stick me with that damned needle at least four more times before finally removing it from my arm and telling me that I could leave...
Obviously, my first time donating blood is something I'll never forget. In the end, I walked away with a t-shirt that was too big for me, a bloody cotton ball taped to my arm, a bruise that lasted two weeks, a sticker, a resurfaced fear of needles, and a story to tell.
Most people ask me if I'd ever give blood again, given how my first experience went. Honestly, I don't even have to think about my answer. Automatically, it's a yes. Every time.
To think that I would let one needle prick, or however many it may take the next time, keep me from possibly saving someone's life... Is there even an option?
The sticker that they gave me when I was done said "I tried. Did you?". I know I'll try every time I'm given the chance. Will you?
I think it is a great idea. I always helped run the blood drives at my school because i was in the health class that sponsered them. Seeing little things that went wrong scared me, but i always knew i would still donate. Its a good feeling to know you could easily save other people's lives without having to do much.
ReplyDeleteSome people at our school do it just to get out of class, to get a free t-shirt, and for the snacks. The coolest thing is that they are doing so much good just because of their own selfish reasons.