Bloody Happenings On Planet Kelza
Giving blood yesterday went fine. Jason and I had something to eat at The Glass House first, then headed straight to the church. There were quite a few people there, even though the nurse I first spoke to said it was quiet. I was given a glass of water to drink (you have to be hydrated before you donate), a form to fill in saying whether I had HIV or Hepatitis or Malaria and so on, and an information pack to read.
I won't lie; I was feeling very nervous as I filled the form in, drank and waited. Even more so when I learned that they take almost a pint of blood; what is that, almost an eighth? I didn't say a great deal to Jason, either; I felt like I was dreaming and I was lost in my own thoughts of how I'd feel afterwards, would I pass out and would it be painful?
The idea of having some of my blood removed freaked me a little. But then I calmed myself by looking back to The Prince's Trust, when I did the abseil. I was a million times more terrified then. Giving blood was peanuts compared to an abseil!
They called me into the main hall, where it was all going down. There must have been about ten beds dotted around for people to lie on as they have their donation, all occupied and with nurses in attendance. A refreshments area had been set up for the people who'd just donated, so they could have a drink and some biscuits to regain their strength. I left my stuff with Jason and reluctantly left him - he sat on a bench where other donors' companions awaited while I was called for an interview regarding my health.
The nurse who saw me pricked my finger - which was surprising as I never saw the needle - took a sample and then interrogated me on everything that the form had covered, plus more. Have you been outside the UK in the last twelve months? Only in my head, and then to nowhere real. Have you been treated with any sort of hormone or fertility treatment in the last six weeks? Not that I'm aware of, no. Are you pregnant? God, I hope not!
From there, it was on to a little waiting area where there was yet more water to drink, so I started on my third cup. I was painfully aware of the fact I was alone, now; I'd rather hoped they'd let Jason sit next to me as I had it done so I'd have some way to be distracted from the horror of it all. They didn't give me much time to mull over my thoughts, though, as no sooner had I sat down and set into another cup of water, I was called up again. Probably for the best, was that. The more I sat and thought about it, the more nervous I became.
The guy who set me up - a bloke called Steve - was really nice. I told him it was my first time and I was feeling a little nervous but he went through the whole process with me; kept me talking and warned me when the needle would be going in. The needle itself hurt a little more than your typical injection, I'll admit, but it wasn't cataclysmically painful. It was just your usual sharp pain, and while it didn't fade entirely - it still hurts a wee bit now, in fact - it ebbed to a barely noticeable throb that even the greatest wuss could live with.
I didn't dare look at my arm, however. The only knowledge I had of the needle in the crook of my right arm, where the vein was most prominent, was the aforementioned pain. I only knew that everything was set up and I was good to go when Steve said, "Now if you can just flex your fingers repeatedly to get the blood flowing, it should only take five to ten minutes."
Thus I was left to it, and Steve went to set up the next donor. I simply lay there, staring at the ceiling, marvelling at how painless it all was and at how alert I was still feeling. Not in agony and dizzy like I'd expected; not at all.
I played through the opening of 'Starship Trooper' a couple of times in my head and bantered with Steve as he came past about how I could think of better ceilings to stare at while giving blood; they'd have to resurrect Michelangelo right away.
I thought about Jason, wondering if he could see me and if he noticed how casual I looked, but for the bizarre flexing I was doing. And I wondered if he was bored, and how long I had left before my donation was over.
The main thing that fascinated me was how they took blood. Of all the questions that had crossed my mind - mainly to do with how much it was safe to eat beforehand - I'd never wondered how they actually went about it. Did they take it by a series of injections? Did they vacuum it out of your system, or smack you up a bit until you'd bled the donation out? But no, they just hooked you up to this IV thing (I think - like I said, I wasn't really looking but I'll be brave and get an eyeful next time), whereupon you had to simply flex your hand and pump it out yourself.
I think I prefer it that way, actually. It makes no difference, really, but I like to think that by that method, I'm sort of in control.
When it was all done and dusted, the time came to see if I could sit up without going all woozy. Two nurses saw to me this time, one to take the IV out of my arm, the other to help me up and then patch up the donation area. They asked me to get into a sitting position as soon as I felt well enough and since I felt alright I was straight up, certainly surprising myself. The nurse dressed my arm and advised me on how to look after myself following my donation, and after some orange juice and biscuits (Penguins - omnomnom) Jason and I set off back to his.
The only unsteadiness I felt while walking? Because of those goddamn heels!
I won't lie; I was feeling very nervous as I filled the form in, drank and waited. Even more so when I learned that they take almost a pint of blood; what is that, almost an eighth? I didn't say a great deal to Jason, either; I felt like I was dreaming and I was lost in my own thoughts of how I'd feel afterwards, would I pass out and would it be painful?
The idea of having some of my blood removed freaked me a little. But then I calmed myself by looking back to The Prince's Trust, when I did the abseil. I was a million times more terrified then. Giving blood was peanuts compared to an abseil!
They called me into the main hall, where it was all going down. There must have been about ten beds dotted around for people to lie on as they have their donation, all occupied and with nurses in attendance. A refreshments area had been set up for the people who'd just donated, so they could have a drink and some biscuits to regain their strength. I left my stuff with Jason and reluctantly left him - he sat on a bench where other donors' companions awaited while I was called for an interview regarding my health.
The nurse who saw me pricked my finger - which was surprising as I never saw the needle - took a sample and then interrogated me on everything that the form had covered, plus more. Have you been outside the UK in the last twelve months? Only in my head, and then to nowhere real. Have you been treated with any sort of hormone or fertility treatment in the last six weeks? Not that I'm aware of, no. Are you pregnant? God, I hope not!
From there, it was on to a little waiting area where there was yet more water to drink, so I started on my third cup. I was painfully aware of the fact I was alone, now; I'd rather hoped they'd let Jason sit next to me as I had it done so I'd have some way to be distracted from the horror of it all. They didn't give me much time to mull over my thoughts, though, as no sooner had I sat down and set into another cup of water, I was called up again. Probably for the best, was that. The more I sat and thought about it, the more nervous I became.
The guy who set me up - a bloke called Steve - was really nice. I told him it was my first time and I was feeling a little nervous but he went through the whole process with me; kept me talking and warned me when the needle would be going in. The needle itself hurt a little more than your typical injection, I'll admit, but it wasn't cataclysmically painful. It was just your usual sharp pain, and while it didn't fade entirely - it still hurts a wee bit now, in fact - it ebbed to a barely noticeable throb that even the greatest wuss could live with.
I didn't dare look at my arm, however. The only knowledge I had of the needle in the crook of my right arm, where the vein was most prominent, was the aforementioned pain. I only knew that everything was set up and I was good to go when Steve said, "Now if you can just flex your fingers repeatedly to get the blood flowing, it should only take five to ten minutes."
Thus I was left to it, and Steve went to set up the next donor. I simply lay there, staring at the ceiling, marvelling at how painless it all was and at how alert I was still feeling. Not in agony and dizzy like I'd expected; not at all.
I played through the opening of 'Starship Trooper' a couple of times in my head and bantered with Steve as he came past about how I could think of better ceilings to stare at while giving blood; they'd have to resurrect Michelangelo right away.
I thought about Jason, wondering if he could see me and if he noticed how casual I looked, but for the bizarre flexing I was doing. And I wondered if he was bored, and how long I had left before my donation was over.
The main thing that fascinated me was how they took blood. Of all the questions that had crossed my mind - mainly to do with how much it was safe to eat beforehand - I'd never wondered how they actually went about it. Did they take it by a series of injections? Did they vacuum it out of your system, or smack you up a bit until you'd bled the donation out? But no, they just hooked you up to this IV thing (I think - like I said, I wasn't really looking but I'll be brave and get an eyeful next time), whereupon you had to simply flex your hand and pump it out yourself.
I think I prefer it that way, actually. It makes no difference, really, but I like to think that by that method, I'm sort of in control.
When it was all done and dusted, the time came to see if I could sit up without going all woozy. Two nurses saw to me this time, one to take the IV out of my arm, the other to help me up and then patch up the donation area. They asked me to get into a sitting position as soon as I felt well enough and since I felt alright I was straight up, certainly surprising myself. The nurse dressed my arm and advised me on how to look after myself following my donation, and after some orange juice and biscuits (Penguins - omnomnom) Jason and I set off back to his.
The only unsteadiness I felt while walking? Because of those goddamn heels!