Are you a hero?  We all have different takes on giving blood. Some people nearly faint at the thought of it while others are earnest about donating every eight weeks.

Recently facing a fear of mine, I signed up to donate.  After a rather pleasant first experience, I decided to become a regular blood donor.

My second donation didn’t go as smoothly.  As the last appointment of the day, it appeared as if this nurse was happy to be finishing up her first day on the job.  Rather disorganized, how she conducted the interview made me a little skittish.  "Oops!  Forgot my gloves."  "Hmm… now where did I put that form?"  "Gosh, I don’t know about that, I better look it up."  She seemed a little ‘flighty’ and rather inexperienced.

Answering the absurd questions, Iwas hopeful that this nurse’s involvement in my donation would end after the interview.  This woman couldn’t possibly be qualified to poke a needle in my arm, could she?

The stars were not in my favor.  A poke would have been choice.  Unfortunately, I got more of a ‘stab.’ This nurse seemed to have thought a ‘running start’ was a good idea.  She jabbed the needle into my arm, and immediately called to another nurse for help.  "Can you come look at this?"
 
Can you come look at this?!? I thought, half expecting to pass out and die at that very moment. This metal tool in my arm is feeling rather uncomfortable, and now we are waiting for another nurse to come take a gander?
 
The other nurse wiggled the needle around, which felt excellent, and eventually got blood to come out.  Just as the pain was becoming bearable, the helping nurse informed me that Space Cadet had bruised my arm and it would be best to draw from my other arm.  Excellent. At this point, I was ready to fend off both nurses with my empty blood bag and run for the door.
 
Instead, I remained in the chair.  I must have been a bit delirious, because I actually agreed to let the more experienced nurse tap into my second arm.  The second attempt was again, much more painful than my first time donating, bringing on a new level of appreciation for the sweetheart who helped me through my first blood donation.

While my blood was being pumped out, the nurse abandoned me.  Apparently I had nothing to worry about, as I had at least five different nurses randomly walk by and push buttons on my monitor without saying a word.  Yep — nothing to worry about.
 
I was extremely relieved to be done.  I made sure to stock up on refreshments as payment for the pain they caused me.  They lent me a fine point Sharpie for the Sudoku I planned to complete during my donation.  Since I couldn’t bend either arm, I didn’t finish the puzzle.  I didn’t give the Sharpie back either.  You might say I was a little bitter.  The rest of my evening was spent sulking on my couch with an ice pack and inflexible arms.  At this juncture, I began to resent them for their instruction to avoid alcohol for the evening, as the conditions provided a prime time to down a few brewskies.  

I looked like a drug addict the next day, but was overjoyed to be able to fully bend my arms without pain the next morning. Though this was quite a ‘draining’ experience which re-established my fear of giving blood, I plan to stick to my guns and continue to donate every eight weeks.

Ridiculous, I know.  I just spilled my guts about an awful experience that no one should ever have to willingly experience, and I’m going to repeatedly put myself back into that situation? Why, why, WHY!?

There are so many great excuses to keep your sleeves down – fear of needles, you don’t want to feel weak afterwards, you’re too busy or you’ve had bad experiences in the past. 

However, when you take the time to think through the impact you can have on another life, all these ‘troubles’ become well worth it.  Sacrificing a little comfort in your day in order to save or dramatically affect another person’s life seems worth it, doesn’t it? 

If that’s not enough reason to make it worth your time, maybe you’re the type that would do it for the free treats you get to mow down when you’re finished donating.  Whatever your reason, I’m willing to bet the receiver won’t care. 

Regardless of how you feel about rolling up your sleeve, I would encourage you to sign up to donate.  You never know – you might just walk out feeling better than when you went in. 

Shootin’ the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.