I like to give blood. And not just because they give you free ice cream.
Much like me, my blood is basic. There’s literally nothing cool about it. I’m not like Brian with his “everybody wants some” O+. With just basic blood, you have to wonder if they’re just being polite when they take yours. Like, maybe they don’t want to hurt feelings or deter positive behavior so they just go through the motions of sticking me and then put the blood in the blood fridge in that space where the un-helpful blood goes. I used to envision my poor little blood bags having a fate similar to boxes of lettuce that live in the vegetable drawer in the fridge only to be thrown out when it gets slimy.
I’m thinking I’m not the only person who wondered about things like this since a couple years ago the blood people have switched up their business model to include something I really like. If history is any indicator, here in the next couple of weeks I’ll get a text letting me know that someone is getting my blood. When that text comes, I have a moment of “Man! I hope they’re alright” followed by a moment of “eesh,…I hope they don’t get the part of my blood that’s responsible for me being a werido.” I know that’s not how weirdness works, but it still makes me nervous for them. I also have the moment that I can only compare to when you have unexpected company at house, that sense of dread like “I should have cleaned better.” My blood is much cleaner than my house, but I still feel nervousness hoping it meets standards (yes,…I’m aware I overthink things. Thank you for your concern 😊)
The actual task of giving blood is really no big deal. Despite that, I still refuse to look when I’m getting stuck to check my iron and getting stuck with the blood taking needle. The latter hurts less than the first. Since I’ve never watched that part, I decided to feel brave and watch a YouTube of the process. Can confirm, it’s really not a big deal. I doubt I’ll watch in my own arm, but I now know that there’s no need for me to petition for my own medal of valor for the “bravery” needed to have a needle but in a vein.
There’s a million questions all of which confirm my basicness. No, I didn’t live in the UK for period of time greater than five years. No, I haven’t spent more than 72 consecutive hours in a detention facility in the last 4 months. No, I haven’t had a tattoo or piercing in the last 4 months (boo!) But fun fact, you still can donate if you have. Some of the naughty questions read way more complex than an SAT question or math word problem. I have to read them a couple times to make sure I’m answering correctly. “A person left Boston on a train traveling at 64 miles per hour, did you have sex with them?” “Was it in the Falkland Islands?” (these jokes only have a chance at being funny to people who’ve given blood. Go jokes! Find your audience!)
On my donation days, I like to back in to my parking spot. Not as a flex, but because I don’t back up well in general and really don’t want the blood people to have to watch my seamless backing and wonder if I’m too low on fluids to drive away. I also like to make sure that I sit in the blood couch for a while after they take the needle out. Turns out that it only takes once of me feeling woozy when I stood for me to be forever worried it’ll happen again. I feel like my dogs when they limp around not using a foot even after there’s no more sticker in their paw. And finally, I like to make sure that I take bloody pictures and virtual signal about my task. Mostly because I post way too much, but also because I want people to know it’s an easy way to help others.
If you’re looking for a way to help people, maybe give it a go. They’ll happily take your blood in trade for Hagen Daz (or whatever your brand is). If you go, not that it’s a competition, but I can bleed in just over 6 minutes.
Thanks for reading!
Bifocals and Barbells 