A Blood Donation

Today I am going to do something I really hate.

When I was a freshman in college I gave blood for the first time. I was trying to be involved and make friends so I volunteered for something that I assumed would be really rewarding and easy.

What an idiot.

I went with a friend who I just met. We were trying to do that new college thing and hang out with someone outside of your high school for the first time.

Conveniently, she went first, finished giving blood and then had to leave. "Bye Girl!! TTYL!!"

?

So here I was, a room full of strangers about to give away my precious, really cute blood.

So as I'm sitting there getting ready to be poked and prodded, there was a girl next to me with a needle in her arm squeezing the little stress ball thingy and I look down and turn green and my eyes bulge out of me head.

THEY TAKE THAT MUCH BLOOD.

Gulp.

Then the nurse says something to the girl that I will never forget, "Wow, you're really filling this bag up fast! Doing a great job, your blood is moving great!"

AND THEN IT WAS ON.

I instantly hated her. If her blood could move fast, mine could move faster. I'm a fucking runner, OK? I will win and I will cut your time in half.

I needed validation. Look at me! Look at me!

So they poke me, oh I don't know, 12-15 times before they find a vein and once the blood is rushing I squeeze that little stress ball with vigor. I make a sharp look at the girl with the fast blood in an expression I'd like to think said, "see this bitch?" I'm pretty sure I'm sweating, have an under bite and am loudly mouth breathing at this point.
Of course, what happens next is pretty foggy but I'm pretty sure that the nurse commented on my fast blood too. As I'm on my death bed, I put this compliment in my back pocket to use for later.

Turns out, blood donation isn't a competitive sport.

And then I pass out.

I wake up to ammonia under my nose and a throbbing headache. I have no idea where I am and lucky for me, I know no one in the room.

The nurses seem worried at first and people are rushing around to recline my chair and lay me completely down and someone is feeding me canned Gatorade out of a straw.

Who are you people? I love you.

Did I win? Was my blood faster than hers?

So then some nice overweight nurse explains to me what happened and says I have to chill there for like 30 minutes to make sure I'm OK.

So I sit there, white as a ghost and wondering if my friend is coming back and still not knowing if my blood was faster. Why is no one telling me this?

And as a freshman in college, I just want my mom and dad.

So I leave the blood place, and like everything else in college, have to walk back to my miserable dorm room. My legs weigh at least 400 pounds each and it takes me 20 minutes to walk a few blocks.

Is my friend coming back? Who will help me?

I get back to my dorm, call my dad and demand that he comes to pick me up so I can sit in the fetal position at my parents house for the rest of the weekend.

Well, that was the blood donation heard round the world because turns out, I have a really rare blood type.

Goodie.

So, to this day, that same blood donation center calls me asking me to give blood. I went a couple more times in college and they were equally traumatic. The last time I went (luckily) my iron was too low. So I high tail it out of there feeling released from prison and holler, SEE YA SUCKAS!!!

Fast forward to present day - I get a call yesterday from a nice lady named Shannon who commented that they 'haven't seen me in awhile,' no shit, that's on purpose, and is telling me how they 'really need my blood type as we get into the holidays.'

My first reaction is, HELL TO THE FUCK NO.

My second reaction is, some day I'm going to need a massive blood transfusion that will save my life and the doctor will say, "dang, that's too bad, no one from your blood type has donated in like, 10 years. We will just sit and watch you die now."

And because I'm Catholic and have a crippling guilty conscience, I'm going to give blood today.

UPDATE: I gave blood. To my surprise it wasn't horribly traumatic. BUT THEN. Passed out at work 2 hours later and almost yacked in someones trashcan. Subtle.