Be nice to me…
Today I gave blood. Now this isn’t the first time I gave blood, but it is the first time I watched.
It’s amazing how much of life, and especially health, is done with the intention of you not being aware and engaged in what’s going on. You don’t watch needles poke you, nurses look at dials on the blood pressure cuff, and doctors give you anesthesia. Most medicines are designed to block the sensation of pain, or nausea, or whatever. Distancing you from that mysterious vessel known as your body.
So this time, I watched. I purposely kept my eyes glued the nurse (who was fantastic, by the way) as she unveiled the little dagger-like needle, which was scooped on the end like the pointed straws that you get with Slushies so the ice chunks don’t clog the straw.
She put it in, It felt like a bee sting, but it was a secondary sensation to the observation of the dark ruby red line as it rushed down the plastic highway down my arm, over my wrist and finally depart to the unknown and mysterious realms under the table, then the ice chest, then who knows where.
It always felt like such an odd sensation to feel my blood, heated to body temperature, flowing outside my body. Especially over my wrist, where so many other veins flow close to the skin. It was almost as if it was a final farewell between my body and its fellow blood cells.
The nurse put the bag near the foot of the bed, instead of the head. So with a slight lift and turn of my head I could see my blood start filling the slightly frosted sturdy plastic bag.
I felt devious, a child that saw their parents putting out Christmas presents. I would watch, then get bored and look elsewhere, and peek again. The bottom of the bag started to bloat like a potbellied man while the top stayed thin.
While laying there, watching, I got to thinking about the questions you answer in the beginning. Do you have malaria? Do you have AIDS? Cancer? Does anyone in your family have such-and-such disease?
No.
Do you feel well and healthy today?
Yes!
Before that I felt normal, but then I realized how lucky I was that I felt normal. I felt a tingly, light feeling spreading over myself. Like the November sunshine broke though the clouds, and even through the roof of the building and shone right down on me.
I watched that blood flow into the bag, steadily filling. I hoped my blood would hold onto that sunshine forever.
Healthy, lucky me giving just a pint of my luck to someone else out there in the universe a little down on their luck and in need of a connection.
Formerly my blood, now property of the world.
I’ve given blood about 8 times now, maybe more. And if each pint can save up to 3 people, that’s nearly 30 people I’ve connected with that I will never ever know.
I could pass them in the grocery store. I could coach their daughter in youth volleyball. Who knows, they might cut me off driving one day and I’ll curse them out in my car.
All they while we are connected on a plasmatic level. Blood sisters.
The nurse held a bit of cloth between my eyes and the needle as she withdrew it. I still felt the sensation of it being in.
I walked from the donation area to the front for cookies and juice.
I never understood before why the people who run the juice stand are so strict. I’ve been reprimanded for having my legs crossed, not putting my arm on the table, moving too much, getting up too soon, laughing too loud, and others.
I’ve been to Catholic school, and let me tell you, this is way worse.
But this time I could kinda understand the demand for me to gentle with myself. I just gave a pint of me. And on a biological level, there will be some time for your body to adjust to the loss. Red blood cells mourning the loss of their compatriots and later welcoming the new.
In the meantime the blood bank diverts your mind and taste buds with apple juice and sugary cookies. Admittedly, another distraction method, but I will accept this one.
I like free cookies.
