Donating Blood; Chapter 14

And wait…
While I was in the hospital for my pre-admitting test one of the women who helped me suggested that I donate my own blood so it would be on hand in case I needed a transfusion during my surgery. Good idea I thought. After all, I certainly had the time. So I made the arrangements and was told that I had enough time to donate twice.
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Since school was out for the summer so Mark and I decided to bring the girls to the blood bank with us. I didn't want to go alone because I had a history of bad reactions to donating blood and I wanted Mark there in case I had another bad reaction.
The first time I gave blood, I was in my twenties and I was working for Eastern Airlines as a reservationist. The building that I worked in was the largest reservations center in American. With over a thousand employees, it was logical to have a blood drive at the office.
I thought that it was great to be able to donate blood during my shift because this would mean that I would be paid to give blood and drink juice and eat cookies. So, I went to the donation room where the medical people had set up, I filled out the paper work then took the next available cot. The technician inserted the needle in to my arm and the blood started to flow in to the catch bag. After a while I didn’t feel very well. I started feeling both sick and sleepy. A doctor was walking up and down the rows of cots looking at the donors. He stopped next to me looked for a moment then turned to the technician who was monitoring the people in my area. He said while pointing to me:
"Take the needle out of her arm." The technician touched my catch bag and said:
"She is almost done." The doctor took a step toward the tech and said in a not so friendly voice:
"GET THE NEEDLE OUT OF HER ARM-NOW, SHE IS TOO PALE!!!"
The tech took the needle out of my arm and helped me to stand. I stood for few seconds, and then promptly fainted, (bet that helped recruit donors). When I came-to, the tech helped me to a table where there was juice and cookies. I took a few bites, and then fainted again; this time there was no one there to catch me. I slid off my seat and under the table. Needless to say it was fifteen years before I tried to donate blood again.
The next time I bravely tried I had been married for a few years. Being
a minister's wife I wanted to be more active in community service. When a parishioner asked me to donate blood at a local VFW blood drive that she had organized I said yes. Anyway I was older and wiser and I ate better too, so why not.
The second time I donated blood I did not faint. The weird thing that happened that time was that my blood just didn't want to leave my body. So, there I was lying on a cot with a needle in my arm and my blood s-l-o-w-l-y draining in to the catch bag. Meanwhile on each side of me the donors were coming, donating, and leaving. My blood was still drip-drip-dripping. When a doctor came by me this time he said as he was laughing:
"I see that your blood is very attached to you." Yea, yea everybody is a comedian I thought.
I tried again a few years ago. Twice a year the B'ville Library has a blood drive, so I tried again. Mark went with me this time and everything went very well. My blood drained at the right speed and when the doctor walked by me, all he said was "Thank you for coming." We ate our cookies and juice and both Mark and I were given a Give Blood T-shirt as a thank you.
The last time I tried to give blood they wouldn't it. Something about my iron count being too low. So on the whole my luck giving blood has not been good, that is why this time when I donated I wanted Mark there to help me if I need it.
The blood donation center at Memorial was on the same floor as the radiation center, which meant going down to floor 4D again. After a quick stop to the out-patient registration deck, it was off to donate blood. We arrive at the blood bank and SURPRISE! I had to fill out more forms while Mark and the girls stayed in the waiting area. This waiting room was an L-shape. The reception area was right at the front (+). We were immediately taken care of (+). The room was painted in hospital uninspiring, with artwork to match(-). Then there were some boring chairs and couches located at the bend of the L (-) followed by a small area with a refrigerator full of juice and a coffee table with snacks (+). All in all I gave it a C it was not bad, but not good either.
The donating room was a small room with four or five very comfortable bed/chairs to lie/sit on. The technician guided me to the chair nearest to the door then hooked up my arm and asked me if I was comfortable.
"Could up help me with my walkman?" I asked the woman. I wanted to set the walkman next to me on the bed/chair and turn it on, but because one of my arms had a needle in it, I needed help. Why did I want to listen to one of my books on tape? Because the bed/chair is located right under a BLARING TV(--) that’s why.
After I finish we headed toward the exit, unfortunately this was a hospital, which means that there were people walking though the hall with bandages, and on crutches. We pass one patient parked lying in the hall on a gurney, moaning in pain. All this upset Leah. She was in tears by the time we got to the car and she asks that we never bring her to that scary place again. Mark and I promise her that we would not.

And wait…
A week later Mark and I were back at the blood bank. Funny but when you give blood at a blood drive they make you wait x-amount of days before they will let you donate again. Yet this time I was able to give blood with only seven days in-between.
We didn’t have a problem getting a sitter for the girls, the problem arose when we walk into the blood bank and the tech noticed my pale face and running nose.
"Do you have a cold?" the woman asked. I want to say something like, no I don't have a cold, I always look this bad. But instead I said,
"Yes, I have a cold."
"Sorry," she tells me, "but you can not donate blood if you have a cold."
"It is only a little cold." I told her. No good. They would not let me donate. I had to be healthy for x-amount of days before they would take any blood. It was getting very close to my surgery date, but I was not worried, I told the tech that it was ok because my husband and I were the same blood type and he would donate blood for me.
"Are you pre-menopausal?" She asks.
"Am I what?"
"Can you still get pregnant?"
"Yes, I think.” I tell her.
"Then your husband can not donate blood for you." She went on to explain that if I got pregnant while his blood was still in my system then there would be an increased chance of some kind of birth defect. I had no idea.

And wait…
I went back to the blood bank again. This time I went alone because we were unable to find anyone to watch the girls. I told Mark that I would call him if I felt that I could not drive by myself.
First stop, the out-patient check-in. This time the window was manned by a very pretty twenty-ish Spanish woman. I filled out the standard insurance forms. She looked them over to see if they were filled out right. After looking at the employment box she looked up at me then asked,
"Is you husband a minister?"
"Yes," I answer. She continued,
"That makes you a minister's wife."
"Why, yes I guess it does." I wondered where this conversation was going.
"You must be very holy." She said. How do you respond to a remark like that? I just nodded my head and left.

And wait…