That One Time When I Laid on the Floor at the Blood Bank

Once, there was this girl who was coerced into giving blood. She had an irrational and odd fear of needles, considering watching the doctor give her stitches, seeing bone, and also lots and lots of pain do not generally phase her, except occasionally to make her giggle wildly. Because of this silly aversion, she had avoided signing up for blood drives. Because she's selfish. But you already know that so I might as well embrace it and own it, and wear it like my favorite Kermit t-shirt. But, for just one minute, the girl... well, heck... I had a moment of guilt and shame as the phlebotimist eyed me like I was a huge pansy while my friend gave blood, and I felt obligated to go talk to the elderly lady with the stickers and ask for a form. So I gave blood. And it made me nauseous, and tired, and my friend mocked me and said it was all in my head, and I was done.

And now I was in the system. So the next time they called me, I inadvertently answered the phone, and of course you can't say "no, I can't give blood. Why? Because I'm a big freaking weenie." So I scheduled another appointment, and was proud of my moment of Overcoming Fear. The day of my appointment I thought I had eaten fairly well. I didn't have a chance to stop and eat dinner before I went, because my appointment was right after work, but I snacked on sugary crap on the way over to the blood center. Which is pretty much like eating dinner. Also I had had some water to drink that day. The blood-giving went really fast. I'm a fast blood-letter, turns out. I would have done quite well at being sick in the Victorian era. And the guy told me I was done, and gave me a band aid, and told me to feel free to make my way over to the juice bar when I felt like it. So I sat there a few minutes, and I felt mostly okay. Surely the woozy feeling in my head was... all in my head. So I mosied over to the juice bar. And the nice juice bar volunteer offered me some juice, and told me to pick out a cookie. And then there were pretty little lights. And I think my head shrunk. And possibly I was having a seizure. And I said "Um... I don't.... I don't feel... I don't feel... I don't feeeel..." Shoot. What is the word that comes after feel. I could not recall. Also it was very dark. And three phlebotimists came running over and tipped my whole chair back so my head was on the ground. And a cold compress was under my neck and on top of my neck. And all of the sudden I felt just dandy again. Well, just dandy except for the constricted, we want oxygen feeling in my muscles.

And there I lay, in the front section of the blood center, next to the juice bar, for 15 or 20 minutes. I got to drink two juices, and eat a bag of pretzels, all comfy-like, right there on the floor. Apparently they figured if I choked on a pretzel the Heimlich would be no prob since I was being monitored. And the nice phlebotimist took my blood pressure about 72 times, and then allowed me to sit up. And took my blood pressure at least 64 times. And then I got to sit in a chair. And have my blood pressure taken. And then stand. And get my blood pressure taken. And then the phlebotimist allowed me to go to my car, and watched me from the door, looking slightly like he thought that surely I was marching towards certain death. But I made it home, and took a long, long nap. Being the center of attention is tiring.

So last time I went to give blood, I walked in, and immediately made eye contact with the nice phlebotimist who was my blood pressure taker the time before. At first I wasn't sure he recognized that I was That blood giver. Until I was in the chair, squeezing the foamy thing, and he said "take your time" as he walked by. Awesome. I'm so good at making friends. And creative.