Last Thursday I had a most interesting and comical blood donation experience. If your name is Nick Schrag you might want to stop reading right about now.
Well, I had never donated donated blood before so I figured it was about time I did my civic duty. Human Resources at work sent out this email encouraging everyone to sign up for some time in the Bloodmobile. I was highly impressed by Janelle's (the HR assistant) red email graphics and signed right up.
When I first got to the Bloodmobile a phlebotomist took me into a room and asked me a bunch of questions about my health. After asking me about four times whether or not I had AIDS or hepatitis and concluding that I didn't (I think someone acutally tests the blood later) she finally let me donate my blood. The first part of the whole experience was fine. I don't have a problem with needles so that was okay. I was just laying there taking it easy, squezzing the spongy ball, reading about how I needed to drink lots of water and eat a good lunch and that if I think I have AIDS I should not donate blood. It took a little less than ten minutes for a pint to drain.
When I was done the phlebotomist came over and started cleaning everything up. It was at that point that I started to feel a little dizzy. I mentioned this to the phlebotomist and she told me to cough. I coughed a few times, but it was just getting worse. This is where it got crazy. I think all three of the phlebotomists were hovering over me. They put a few ice packs around my neck and one on my heart. While this is happening I was supposed to be holding a cotton ball over my puncture wound, holding a cookie and water, coughing and answering questions. One lady asked me how I got a bruise on my leg. I have no idea what my response was, but it must have been strange because she gave me a weird look. It was seriously too much to handle in a semi-conscious state.
After all the commotion died down I was just laying there with all these ice packs on sipping on some water. I tried to eat a cookie, but the ice packs were making me so cold I was shivering. My arm kept shaking so every time I tried to stick the cookie in my mouth I got crumbs all over my shirt. I told the phlebotomist I was cold and she just looked at me and smiled. Someone from the public defenders office tired to talk to me, but my teeth kept chattering. It was at this point that I realized I was probably very entertaining for the other people in the bus. They made me stay there with those stupid ice packs on shivering with cookie crumbs all over me for 50 minutes before I could leave. Okay, everyone else only had to stay for 10 or 15 minutes. Crazy.
When I got back to the museum, in addition to feeling very tired I noticed my eye sight was a bit abnormal. I had three different levels of depth perception in my left eye and it made it very difficult for me to walk up the steps. This got better after about two hours, but I felt lathargic for six hours after I donated blood. I don't know if I will donate blood again, at least not during work. I was pretty useless for the rest of the day.
Does anyone else have crazy blood donation stories? Or maybe just any crazy story? Or maybe even a boring story? I think I got the whole anonymous posting thing activated so post away blog readers.
"She's axorenic."
-Kellie Ortman in reference to an underweight Miss North Carolina USA in tonight's pageant.
2 comments:
ber,
Donating blood ain't fun for everyone. About 25 years ago, I, like you, felt I should donate some blood, because, who knows, some day I might need somebody elses blood. Right?
Well, the blood mobile was parked near Baken Park in Rapid City. I worked in retail at Lafayette Radio Electronics and often did not eat lunch. I would smoke another Winston when I felt a little hungry. About 3 p.m. I went to give blood. They asked only one or two screening questions and before I knew it had the needle in me. I felt fine for about five minutes and then proceeded to get "dizzy" as you say and within a few seconds passed out. The next thing I remember was waking up to smelling salts and the techs yelling, "Mark, wake up, Mark" My name is Ricky, and I thought I had died and come back as my brother or something. It was really weird. I never learned why they called me Mark. No ice packs for me. They gave me a 7-UP and cookie and I was out the door in a few minutes. After about half an hour my hunger pangs were the biggest I can recall ever in my life, other than perhaps one time when I was about 12, after cleaning chicken manure out of the chicken house for most of a cold winter day.
No coughing and no ice packs in the 1970s. I tried a few years later to give blood in the Rushmore Mall when I worked at Pennys in Rapid. This time I had eaten but almost ran from work to the blood letting place across the mall and when I had arrived my blood pressure was too high and they sent me away. I have not tried to donate blood since those two experiences and like you am reluctant.
Yeah...I'm pretty reluctant too. Every time I have had a medical procedure that necessitated an IV drip (that would be knee surgery and wisdom teeth extraction) I get some doofus intern who needs the experience of poking people. No one has ever found a vein on the first try, and one particularly bad experience left me with bandages on the insides of both elbows, on the undersides of both wrists, and some really young nurse contemplating the feasibility of running the iv through the top of my foot. No thanks, buddy.
Sarah
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