Giving Blood: The First Time

Today, I gave blood for the first time. The only other time I have had my blood removed from my body in a medical context was last year when I had it tested for stuff I can't even remember; nothing serious.

Remembering that the syringe pulling my blood out felt a little fiery, and not exactly looking with fond memories on the needle used to do it, I was, shall we say, rather apprehensive about doing this. Actually, when the signup sheet for the blood drive was put up several days ago, I had practically resolved not to do it at all.

However, thanks to a lot of positive peer pressure from almost all of my classmates who donated blood throughout the day, I finally worked myself up during last period and stepped inside the blood bus.

After some initial questioning, I was ready to go, but mysteriously, the bardcode sticker for my vial of blood went missing. After about ten minutes of searching, the technicians found it stuck to one of their lab coats. Now, I have rather obvious veins, which both technician and I thought would be a boon, but unfortunately, immediately after sticking my left arm with the needle, she informed me that- unusually- my vein had shifted and I now had a bruise.

Having come this far, it would be futile to give up now, so I waited for another couple minutes with a cold cloth on my arm while they prepared another needle for my right arm. Fortunately, this one was successful, and it was a matter of about five to six minutes before they had collected a pint of blood from me. I was praying the whole time, which was reassuring, though it was certainly not the worst I've ever been through.

I took some Oreos, but I had to leave rather quickly as it was already 3:35 at this point and school was letting out. I'm still not gun-ho about all of this, but I am glad that I had the experience at least once in my life so far, and I suppose even though the first time had to be the most traumatic, it couldn't get much worse in the future.