Another First

I donated blood for the first time in my life this week. All my life, I'd been laughed at when I wanted to donate blood - I was always underweight. This time I was just over the minimum requirement (45 Kgs) and was all pumped up for my blood donation.

The most painful part was not the donation itself, but the fact that NO one believed I was fit to donate blood even after all the tests proved I was! (Okay, this is not true. The most painful part was my arm AFTER the blood donation. I couldn't bend it all evening, and the needle puncture still hurts as I type this. To be fair, they did have to jiggle the needle a bit after I moved my hand).

It was an impromptu decision - my company has organised a blood donation drive that I found out about about an hour before it started. I had just started working there and didn't have my email set up yet, so didn't get this information. The colleague who sits next to me wanted to donate blood and I just joined in. It was her first time too, and we derived strength from our excitement. She was soon disqualified (due to just below required Hb) and from then on, I went solo.

My colleague was very kind and hung around for a bit to give me moral support. But she soon had to return to work, having no excuse. She sweetly introduced me to one of the other guys there before she left and came back in between to check on me to see if I was doing okay and take pictures.

Picture credit: My Colleague

(PS: I DO have skinny arms!) 

By this time, my Hb level was tested and proved I was well fed, my weight met the approval the the doctor present and my BP was accepted, though not very happily. All this not without my being expected to be unfit at every step. 

The first thing the camp doc did was to ask the women who wanted to give blood to get their Hb level tested. When my turn came, the nurse(?) looked at me and said, "She'll be anemic". And though the machine proved I had a decent Hb count, they were not convinced and squeezed my finger for more blood to do a less accurate copper sulfate solution test - which I passed.

Step 2: Meet the doctor. He looked at my eyelid, checked my weight (and reduced a Kg for the shoes while some of the boys giggled that my shoes added 2 Kgs to my weight) and checked my BP - which didn't register. So he advised me to drink some water or juice. I'd already drunk a large glass of water before the process started and was beginning to feel the pressure on my bladder. Still, I drank another glass as instructed and waited, got my BP checked and he passed me though my BP was just slightly high. Excitement does that. 

I'm pretty sure the doctor only let me donate blood 'cause I'd put my mother's name down as "Dr ...". I did add the "Dr" as an afterthought and good thing too! He looked at me skeptically and asked me once again if my mother was a doctor, just to be sure.

My piercings and tattoos were old enough to be approved and I sailed through to the next round - the actual blood donation.

I was treated like a fragile little bird. The nurses very sweetly directed me to a bed that didn't have another one adjacent to it, covered me with a pretty sheet so I was comfortable, made sure the squishy ball was soft enough for me to pump and that I was comfortable. Then very gently, the needle went in and I was instructed to keep pressing and releasing the ball.

Everything went well till I decided my hand was hanging out and I should move it to a more comfortable position. I shifted my hand ever so gently and didn't think the change was noticeable. That was when the guy in charge (the head nurse?) asked me if I'd moved my hand and then they had to jiggle the needle around :-(. Ultimately, they told one of the nurses to sit and hold my needle/pipe down in position while I completed my donation.

When it was all done, I was dying to get up, but they just wouldn't let me. I felt alright. There was no giddiness or weakness and while I complied and stayed lying down, I desperately needed to empty my bladder. They checked my arm and since I was still bleeding, they they kept me lying longer and advised me to drink more fluids. *Sigh* Finally I got the all clear, and ran to the loo before opening my pack of juice. Whew, the relief! I then finished my work and walked back home.

I felt awesome the rest of the day. Like I'd done something huge. Like I was a hero. I was excited all evening. Or was I just light headed?