bronnyblog

Phew! Today I gave blood for the first time.

As an aside I am thankful to my friend Ben who pointed out to me that giving blood is just one of those things that doesn't cost us much, but means an incredible amount to those receiving it. Like many people, I'd just never thought about it - but now I have, and now I will continue to give. Thank you Ben.

Anyway, the experience ended up being rather unnerving. I am NOT one who has problems seeing blood, whether my own or someone else's, and I definitely have no trauma relating to needles. To be honest I have trouble understanding how people can have physical reactions to situations that are apparently psychologically induced. The idea of being completely and utterly "out of mind," or unable to control thoughts or emotions to an extent that it causes uncontrollable physical reactions, is a phenomena that I have met with a certain degree of skepticism, or at very least an element of curiosity, (and ignorance). Indeed, I have felt powerful waves of frustration, or violent tears that seem unrelenting, but deep down inside I have always known that I possess the power to forego the emotion or to stop the tears if I really wanted to, and sometimes I do. Relatively speaking, I guess I'm an emotionally secure person. Or so I've always thought...

I've gone through all the questioning procedures, drank my glass of sugary juice; the needle goes in and I calmly watch the plastic sack as it fills with my blood. I observe the people around me: reading magazines, talking to the volunteers in little red aprons, or struggling to answer the "Name that Tune" puzzles posted on the wall. All the while, the blood is draining from the veins in our arms. No Problem. Number 6: My traveling companion is nine years old. He is the child of my first marriage... I smile. Graceland. The time is ticking away. I gaze lovingly at Peter in the chair next to me. He is almost done. The nurses think it's cute that a young married couple would do this together. I feel a little light-headed, giddy almost, but I resist the urge to laugh. This is to be expected, I suppose. After all, I am giving blood. Peter and I begin to talk about how easy this whole process is. How the bus takes us straight from home to here, and how little of our time this is taking. We should do this often, we concur. My head feels lighter. Now I am dizzy. I have no urge to laugh. "Peter?" It is getting more difficult to see him. "Peter, I feel kind of dizzy..." "You should tell someone," he says. I wave my arm a little. A few faint "excuse me's" escape from my mouth, but I really don't want to create a scene. Suddenly Peter is gone. Blackness creeps in from the corners of my eyes...I'm loosing it. My head feels so terrible! I'm spinning, I'm hurting, It's tingling... I'm going to be sick, I'm going to be sick. "Open your eyes! Keep them open!" Voices are shouting at me. I open my eyes but all I can see is light and colours. There's a face in front of me, but I can't tell who it is. "Focus! Keep your eyes open!" I can hear them talking to me, "You're fine... You're okay... You're fine..." Am I ?! I am going to be sick! I can't keep my eyes open, my head - it's being crushed! Breathe, breathe, breathe. Damp cloths on my face bring some relief. I didn't realize how hot I was. "They help!" I mutter, in response to the cloths. "I feel sick! I'm sick!" "You're fine, you're okay..." "Will it ever stop?" I wonder. I feel like I'm plunging deeper and deeper towards the inevitable.. But what that is, I don't know; all I know is I don't want it. Breathe, focus, breathe. I try to make out faces, but I can't see. There were windows on that wall, but I can't see them anymore. Paul Simon is gone. Peter is gone. Breathe. Arhh... I'm going to be sick. I'm desperate. I kick my shoes off, and toss back and forth. So hot! More cloths: that's all I can hope for. I just want to sleep. I'm tired of keeping my eyes open...
"Look at me! You're fine. You have to believe that!" The nurse is in front of me. I look at her but I can barely see. I try to relax. I take a deep breath to prevent my gag reflex. It feels good. I take a few more. "It's better, It's better," I keep telling myself. Minutes pass, cloths are changed. Maybe I won't throw-up. What a relief. I still can't see. My head feels awful, but I think I'm going to be okay. So I wait, and I breathe. I can see figures coming and going, but for me, time has stopped. I have no desire to move. "Drink this juice," says the nurse, "I'll throw-up," says I. "You won't feel better until you have it." "Water instead?" I try to compromise. "No, juice." I take some deep breathes and begin to drink. It tastes awful. I need a break. Eventually I'll finish. "Chew this," Mmmm, straight sugar squares crumbling in my mouth. I drink three glasses of juice and two sugar squares, but it takes an eternity. I wait... and wait. I can make out faces. Peter is no longer beside me. Where did he go? Is he still waiting for me? I can see the wall, and the windows! But everything is blurry. I blink. "Focus!" This time I'm shouting at myself. But I still can't focus. Oh well. I wait. I observe people walking around , and can see others calmly donating their blood. "What's wrong with me?" I wonder. The nurse comes around, "Are you feeling better?" she asks. I let out an affirmative sigh, but wish I could feel better still. "Just so you know, " says the nurse, "these reactions are often psychological." Really?! "They are often reflective of peoples' anxiety towards the process." But, but... How can that be?! I am completely confused. I am somewhat reassured by the nurses further comments concerning my low blood pressure being barely above the "normal" line, and my body weight being barely above the requirements for giving blood. I am also told that had I been better hydrated, and had I had a protein meal more recently, this would not have been so difficult. I feel better knowing that this reaction was not purely the result of an uncontrollable mind, but I still feel like an idiot. "You gave 90% of the blood, and we stopped it at 13 minutes," I am told. Rats - all that and I didn't even succeed in the end. I can almost read the Graceland lyrics on the opposite wall. Peter! I can see him on the other side of the room. He smiles at me, winks, and mouths the words, "I love you." I no longer feel like a failure. It is my power to go on...

What seemed like hours later, I got up, and we went home. I've been weak all day, but I will not be defeated! On the way out we made an appointment to donate blood again in a few months. I will eat an egg and drink two liters of water if I have to, but the rest, I suppose is "all in my head." This was the first time that I have ever experienced the effects of an "uncontrollable mind." Call me crazy, but I am determined to control it. Next time I will not go out of my mind.