{"id":4606,"date":"2010-08-30T14:51:17","date_gmt":"2010-08-30T19:51:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/?p=4606"},"modified":"2010-08-30T14:51:17","modified_gmt":"2010-08-30T19:51:17","slug":"being-a-blood-donor","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/2010\/20100830-4606.htm","title":{"rendered":"Being a blood donor"},"content":{"rendered":"

This last weekend, Davene mentioned her visit to donate blood<\/a> and how relaxing she found it–and it got me to reminiscing about my own blood donation stories.<\/p>\n

Davene said:<\/p>\n

“Despite the tourniquet around my arm and the needle sticking in my vein, I thoroughly enjoyed my time and–for once–didn’t regret the fact that I’m a slow bleeder. I had a book to keep me company, of course (The Autobiography of George Muller, that my dear blogging friend, Margie, sent me), and was easily transported from the mall corridor where I reclined as my blood dripped out to Bristol, England, in the days of Muller. “<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

It reminded me of the time when I wasn’t a slow bleeder–at all. <\/p>\n

I generally had a hard time donating because my iron borders on low, so I had taken to dropping by the downtown blood bank location whenever I was on city campus, just so they could check. <\/p>\n

And finally, after a half dozen or so visits in which the pin-prick revealed that my iron was too low, I was able to donate. <\/p>\n

I settled in and they tapped my arm–and bright red blood quickly gushed into the bag. Rather than getting venous blood, the phlebotomist had managed to tap an arteriole. I donated in less than a minute.<\/p>\n

That didn’t bother me at all, since I was always incredibly busy as a college student. I had a packed schedule, between classes and working and volunteering and extracurriculars. I was always on the go and generally somewhat sleep-deprived. So getting my donation done quickly was a major plus.<\/p>\n

What I didn’t count on was how concerned the blood bank staff would be about my rapid donation. They worried that my blood pressure would drop too low or that I might go into shock or something–so they insisted that I stay on the chair, sipping soda for 30 minutes. <\/p>\n

And they wouldn’t let me close my eyes.<\/p>\n

So there I was, exhausted from running, my mind racing through the many things I still had to do that day, bound to a chair with nothing to do but without the option of napping.<\/p>\n

It was excruciating–and the Dr. Phil on the television was definitely<\/i> not making it any better!<\/p>\n

I’m glad Davene found her donation relaxing. My donations have not always been. <\/p>\n

Now that I can no longer donate blood (thanks to the discovery that I have very low blood volume without removing some!), I think upon donation with mixed feelings.<\/p>\n

It’s a relief to not have to worry about scheduling donations into my already busy life–especially since I never knew if I’d actually be able to donate or not. At the same time, it’s a bummer that I can’t donate. I know how valuable blood donors are, and how necessary. My blood type is generally in high demand, and the bank is always looking for more. I just wish I could still donate.<\/p>\n

What are your favorite blood donation stories? Don’t donate? Why not? (You should really consider it–It doesn’t take much and it provides an invaluable resource to the ill and wounded.)<\/i><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

This last weekend, Davene mentioned her visit to donate blood and how relaxing she found it–and it got me to reminiscing about my own blood donation stories. Davene said: “Despite the tourniquet around my arm and the needle sticking in my vein, I thoroughly enjoyed my time and–for once–didn’t regret the fact that I’m a … Read more Being a blood donor<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0},"categories":[4],"tags":[172],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4606"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4606"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4606\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4606"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4606"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4606"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}