Blood Donor

I am an occassional blood donor. I would like to be the type of person who goes to donate blood every 2 months like clockwork, but I'm not. And I don't know if I ever can be.

The reason for this is simple. Every time I go to donate blood, I come inches--no, millimeters--from running away before they get me started. It happens in that waiting period between the interview and actually having the needle stuck into my arm.

I do not like being stuck with needles. I know, I have had 3 children and several hospital visits/surgeries so you would think that I'm used to the needles by now. But, alas, it is not so. They still make me nervous, fidgety, and dare I say, I bit light headed. Once the needle is in I'm fine. It's the process of getting the needle in that I find so offensive to my sensibilities.

See, throughout all the children and hospital visits/surgeries, I have had some pretty bad experiences with the needles. I have also had great experiences. Experiences where I didn't even feel the needle go in. In fact, I have had more good experiences than bad, but the bad experiences are the ones that stick in my head and feed my minor phobia.

When I was pregnant with The Boy I had to be admitted to the hospital for 5 days and the nurse in charge of starting my IV dug the little plastic tubing around in my wrist trying to find the vein that she had when she started the procedure, but had disappeared. OUCH! I still have a scar. I have also had people dig around in my arm looking for a vien that mysteriously diasappeared. I honestly think that I would prefer to have the needle reinserted rather than used as an excavation tool in my body, thank you very much.

So, to get to the point of this whole post. I donate blood usually when there is a blood drive through church and I feel well enough to do it. I donate because I know that it is a good thing to do and I have the potential to help someone.

Last Thursday there was a blood drive at the church so I went. I, as usual, came very close to running out of the room before they started me, but I went none the less. I feel good about doing my part, even though my arm was being used as a digging exploration once again. It really didn't even hurt. Then, after the four hours of having the wrapping on my arm had passed, I was left with this beautiful little reminder of my good deed:


Isn't it beautiful!