Blood

Today I was hanging out with a few friends at Godfathers (the hangout spot) when I told them I had to go. It was 5:45, and I was supposed to pick my dad up from giving blood. It wasn't that he couldn't drive after giving blood, it was just that he had been using a rental car, but returned it just before giving blood.

I got to the church and found the place. It was in a gym/worship center. There were about 15 people in the room. Since my dad had just started not too long ago, I asked if I could give. The lady told me that I could, so I filled out some information.

I had given once before, but this time I had a much better time. The first time I gave was in an RV remolded for blood donation. The nurse told me to go into a tiny room and take a survey. The computer asked me questions very slowly, and then I answered them. Unfortunately, I had to tell them that I didn't have sex with some with HIV, AIDs, gonorrhea, etc. in around 10 questions, and then in 10 more questions had to tell them that I had never been in Africa, in Europe from 1950-1970 (when I wasn't alive), or taken any tattoos. I respect that these questions need to be answered, but by me saying that I have never been out of the country or had sex, I wouldn't have had to answer about 30 questions (in theory). But this time, I just answered those questions on a quick box-checking paper form.

Also, I was in a practically empty gym, not a cramped RV.

One of the best parts was that I knew someone there. Calvin had gotten there just before me. He is a body-building type of guy. He is very fit, so when the nurse told him he might not be able to donate blood, he was very surprised. The bottom number of Calvin's blood pressure was 30. This means, according to a chart I found in many places on the internet, Calvin was in a coma. After taking his blood pressure manually (with the pump), they figured it out.

I got my information approved, and then went to the cool chairs. The nurse was cleaning my arm at the injection site, when I got a phone call. I answered. It was Alex. He asked if I wanted to go play volleyball, but I told him that I better not. Also, it was way too cold for sand volleyball.

During my quick talk with Alex, the nurse must have put the big needle in my arm, because I looked back and sure enough, I was getting blood pumped. The nurse told me to squeeze the ball continually. The way I heard it (both times I gave blood), I was supposed to squeeze as often and as quickly as I could. Apparently this is not what I was supposed to do. As I was squeezing, I would feel a warm sensation in my arm at the injection spot. I thought it was weird, but didn't pay too much attention to it. About a half-minute later, I noticed my arm feeling very warm. I looked, and dark-red liquid was flowing off either side of my arm.

I very calmly said "I'm bleeding." The nurse later informed me that he was thinking "duh, you're donating blood," but then saw what had happened. He covered the injection site with an inch thick of gauze, and then started cleaning my arm and the chair. He then lifted the gauze and noticed that the needle was securely in my vein.

I had been squeezing the ball too much, and I bled too much for the tube to suck. The excess blood seeped out of my arm and onto the chair.

Afterward, I felt fine. I drove my dad to his car, and we went shopping for some things, and then home. Despite this donation, I will continue to donate as much as I can.