Off-List Item #3: (Attempt to) Donate Blood

I was originally going to write this post last Friday, when I was still seething with frustration from this experience, but actual work got in the way. Probably for the best. After a fantastically fun weekend of tailgating, football and general revelry with my friend Nick, I'm feeling slightly less incensed and now just dully annoyed. Regardless, here's the story...


Last Thursday, I very eagerly attempted to donate blood for the first time with my two friends Lindsay and Lindsay, with 0% success. I'm not really sure why I hadn't tried to donate before, but when the Lindsays said they were going, I jumped at the chance. I had no reason not to: needles don't bother me, I have a high pain threshold, I don't know what my blood type is but was somehow hoping to wrangle that information from the Red Cross, I like free stuff, and I'm really enjoying this kick of trying new things. Plus, it was the Ohio State/Michigan "Blood Battle", and I love any excuse to talk smack to my OSU friends. So I signed up for an appointment and started iron-loading...


There was lots wrong with this blood drive. First off, appointments apparently don't really matter, or so we learned when we showed up only to be greeted with a 1+ hour long line just to find out if we were eligible -- we just got lumped in with all the walk-ins. Secondly, I'm not entirely sure the test they give you to test your iron level matters either. They tested my right middle finger and I was about a point below the minimum iron reading. Not willing to give up after the hour of waiting, I asked for a re-do, only to find out that the iron reading in my left middle finger was a solid 0.8 above the minimum. So yeah, that's whack.


But the levels of whack-ness really escalated when I actually got through the screening after having been deemed -- at least by the first round of nurses -- to be worthy of donating my blood. We waited another hour and a half (side note: I'm really enjoying the italics function to convey my irritation) to actually get onto the gurney, then another 30 minutes for the nurse to come over and stick me. Or not. Turns out when she got to me, put the tourniquet on and poked around my arm a little, then did the same with the other arm, she determined that I have deep veins and was not "a suitable candidate for blood donation".


I was crushed. I offered alternatives -- let me drink a little more water, tie the tourniquet tighter, let me sit up for a few minutes to get the blood going (at that point I'd been laying completely flat for a half hour), something. I had waited 3 hours, I explained. I wanted this pint of blood OUTTA ME! But nope. She quickly dismissed me and called over the next person in the seemingly endless line of more desirable blood donation candidates. I walked away. And because of the frustration and disappointment of the night plus the rejection of my veins plus a general aura of school-related exhaustion and apathy, I may or may not have cried. In the hallway of the Union. And dramatically ripped off the "I Make a Difference" name tag sticker I had been given 3 hours before and threw it into the trash can. Except I missed, so I had to pick it up off the floor and then slightly less dramatically place it in the bin. Then cried some more. It was a really pathetic 5 minutes for me.


Thankfully I had the Lindsays there to comfort me, and make me feel that indeed I had made a difference, even if my pint of blood stayed comfortably within my veins. L-Bo even gave me credit for her pint, because she said without my commitment to staying, she would have left long before and thus deprived the world of her donation. Hey, I'll take it.


I lodged a complaint with the Red Cross on Monday and fully plan on finding another donation site to try again. JUST TRY TO HOLD ME BACK. So stay tuned for (hopefully) another blog post about actually successfully donating some blood.

And in the meantime, Ohio State still sucks. GO BLUE!