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Donate Blood, Save My Life
It was my birthday just a few days ago, and I got a “Happy Birthday” email from the New York Blood Center. They thanked me for saving a life, and attached a heart felt story about a fellow who lost a limb in a shark attack, but his life was saved, thanks to donors like me.
There’s just one problem here. I’ve never donated blood. I tried. This is why I received this, but their records are wrong.
I like to tackle my fears. Doing stand-up comedy was a HUGE fear of mine. And now it’s part of who I am. If you don’t tackle your fears, they define you. Your fears control you. I hate that.
One day, I got the bright idea that I would conquer my phobia of needles by donating blood. At the time, I worked in a nursing home. They were holding a blood drive there, so I saw it as the perfect opportunity. I was gung-ho. I thought, this is it. This is the day I stop being a pansy, and take a needle like a boss.
I filled out the necessary paperwork. Have I slept with a prostitute in the 1970s? Of course. Who didn’t? It was the 70’s. But seriously though, for a group that is constantly whining that they don’t have enough blood, they sure are picky about their blood. (For the record, I had tried once before to donate blood in High School, but didn’t meet the weight requirement).
If you’ve every donated blood, you know the first thing they do is prick your finger to test your iron level. As soon as the nurse did this, I felt the color leave my face. I was already seeing spots. The nurse looks at me and goes, “Are you okay?”
Me, determined to do this says, “Oh yeah. I feel great. I’m great.”
The nurse doesn’t look convinced. She takes my blood pressure. She says to herself, “that can’t be right.” She does it again. Then she asks, “Lori, are you sure you feel alright?”
“Great,” I lie, “I feel great.”
“Because your blood pressure is so low, I’m not even sure how it’s possible that you’re even conscious right now.”
“What?”
“If we took your blood, I’m positive you would faint, and then we’d have to send you to the hospital to get blood.”
“You know what… I do feel a little dizzy, now that you mention it.”
So the nurse helped me over to another table, where I was fed juice and cookies, and forced to sit there because they were afraid I was going to pass out. Yup, a prick on the finger, and a drop of blood, and I almost went down. After twenty minutes, I felt fine, (besides the embarrassment) and left. Oh well. So much for conquering my fear of needles.
Of course, a couple years later, after some serious complications from a tonsillectomy and losing a great deal of blood, I needed a blood transfusion. I have someone elses blood running through my veins, and while the thought of that disgusts me, I’m thankful.
I thank all the blood donors out there. And if you eligible to donate, and won’t pass out from getting your finger pricked, I urge you to do so. Chances are, someone you know will need blood at some point.
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