A Small Something Sobre Sangre

Let it be known that I gave blood today.

Insert the word "almost" between "I" and "gave," and you've got yourself a true sentence.

You see, I am scared of needles. Terrified, even. Blood doesn't bother me, and getting shots and having blood drawn never even really hurt that bad to me, but the thought of having the needle in me has always been a source of uneasiness and fear. To demonstrate how poorly I've handled things like this in the past, here is an abridgment of my history with needles.

Chapter 1:

At ten years old, I had to have tubes put in my ears. This required anesthesia. But before they could anesthetize me, I needed an IV. But before they could put the IV in me, they had to give me a ton of laughing gas because I was so nervous I wouldn't hold still and I kept crying for Mama. I'm such a baby.

Chapter 2:

When I was a senior in high school, I had a small cyst on my thyroid. My sister had had one just like it, albeit larger, a few months before, and she was going to have to have a biopsy on hers (this was until it miraculously disappeared about a week before the surgery was scheduled. But that is a different story). In order to check mine out and make sure it was nothing serious, they wanted to do a CT scan. If you know anything about it (which I don't, except for that I had one), apparently it is good to have dye in your veins to highlight them so the doctors can see what is going on in there. The easiest process for this would have been to have me drink the dye over 24 hours or so, but they wanted to do it that day. So they got the grand idea of injecting the dye in my veins with needles.

Yes, I said "needles." Plural. And here is why.

I sat down in the chair with my left arm completely entrusted to the nurse, my right arm stretched out to be as far away from the needles as possible. Mama was there to hold my hand and I took advantage of that. So the nurse put the needle in me, and I thought, "Oh, that didn't hurt at all." But then she took one look at me and said, "Uh-oh," and then, to the other nurse, "Um, can we get this girl a stretcher?"

Apparently it even scared Mama. My face went completely white, lips all purple and stuff, and even though I wasn't in pain, my body freaked out about the needle. So they got me on a stretcher and waited for the saline solution to go up in my veins. And waited, and waited, and waited. My body didn't want to take it. Probably because it knew that needles are evil and that nothing good can come of them. Ha. No but really, it was all bunching up three or four inches above where they inserted the needle and just not going through.

So what did they do?

They tried the other arm.

Yeah, that's right. Two needles in one day. And it still didn't work! I was exhausted. They almost tried to do it again, but Mom asked if they actually needed the dye, and when they told her it could be done without it, she refused to let them put another one in me.

Now you see why I keep her. :)

Chapter 3:

The summer after my senior year I worked at a daycare. Before I started working there, I had to do all the background check stuff and get a TB test (I would have had to do drug testing too but Millie knew it wouldn't have been an issue. I love being LDS!).

You want to know the crazy thing? The TB test almost made me pass out! Just that little bitty thing! I hardly felt a thing when she did it. Right afterward, I felt fine. I said, "Oh. Is that it?" and she said yes, so Mama and I got up and walked on out. She was so proud of me. But about halfway to the car, I got really dizzy and had to sit down. So much for being brave.

So anyway, that's the "still really long even though it is abridged because I'm so long winded" version of my needle history. Hopefully I have adequately demonstrated why giving blood would be such a huge ordeal for me. But even with this crazy fear of needles, every time I walk by a blood drive in the Wilk, I cannot help but have this overwhelming desire to donate blood. I know there are so many people who need it, and I think it would be really cool to overcome my fear for such a noble cause!

I walked by it on Tuesday afternoon on my way home from work, and almost sat down and did it right then. But I decided I should come back when I had more time. So I called Jazlyn, told her I was going on Thursday, and asked her to come with me. She said she would. So I was preparing myself, talking myself into not being scared, going back and forth between being really excited and freaking out. I went to bed last night freaked out and sure that I was not going to even try. But when I woke up, I felt surprisingly calm and just like I really wanted to donate. While I still had that attitude, I figured it was best to go ahead and get on up to school. I even ate iron-fortified cereal out of my special bowl to pump me up for the day.

So I came up to school and filled out the paperwork, and when the guy took me back to take my blood pressure and stuff, he looked at the form and within seconds knew that I was disqualified.

You wanna know why? Because I got my ears pierced last October. And you have to wait a year after that. Apparently there is still some chance that it could be infected. Seriously though, about three more weeks will have been a year since the piercing. I couldn't believe it.

On the bright side, though, my blood pressure was excellent and my pulse was only a little bit high because of the nerves. And I still got snacks and the awesome t-shirt!

I'm going back in eight weeks when they're here next. And I *will* do it! I sat with Jazlyn as she had hers done, and I am pretty used to the idea now. I never thought I would say it, but I am actually looking forward to having that huge needle stuck in my arm in a few weeks.