Happy Friday everyone! I went back and forth on the title for this week’s post, because I actually don’t love the saying “No good deed goes unpunished” and in this particular case, the punishment was all of my own making, so it doesn’t really apply correctly, but still seemed fitting enough for the situation.
Let me walk you through the morning I just had. I signed up to donate blood at a local blood drive today. I’ve never donated blood before but had always felt like it was something I should be doing and wanted to start doing. This drive was conveniently located right down the street from my daughter’s school at the organization where she attends afterschool, so it seemed like a no brainer to sign up for the 8:30am slot and get there right after I drop her off in the morning.
Actually, backing up a bit, I had technically signed up to donate at their last drive two months ago, but was sick on the day of so had to cancel my appointment. Strike one for my donating track record.
Fast forward back to today, feeling healthy, excited to go do this. I arrive at the mobile bus thingy where they are doing the drive (actually, full disclosure, I went into the lobby and was totally oblivious to the fact that it was outside in the parking lot and had to ask someone at the desk where to go). Once I found the bus though, I got inside, and started filling out the paperwork. There was also even a mother of one of my daughter’s classmates there with an appointment at the same time as me so I got to enjoy a pleasant chat as I filled out the boring paper work. So far, so good.
As I’m completing the questionnaire to make sure I am eligible to donate it’s a yes or no in all the right places, I am passing with flying colors. Going great! Then after completing the paperwork the nurse brings me into the first little room to get the tiny sample of blood to get my type and also check my hemoglobin levels. I never knew this since it was my first time, but FYI, they have to do a finger prick to do this testing and then scrape at it with a hard little plastic tool thingy. Ouch. This part hurt more than then needle in the arm part for sure (and as I am now finishing writing this two days later STILL hurts a tiny bit, but I am a wimp, so don’t let that deter you if you are thinking of donating).
Anyway, she tells me my hemoglobin level is great, woo hoo! I didn’t really even know what that meant at the time but I googled it later and see now that it’s to make sure your iron levels aren’t too low, so as someone who occasionally needs some iron supplements and has been borderline anemic on multiple occasions, even more great news. Then she checks my blood pressure, also looking good and well within the normal rage. She very excitedly tells me it’s “excellent”. I think she can sense I am a bit nervous and also maybe just is the type of amazing person who loves to give positive feedback. Either way, I’m eating it up and so confident I’m going to crush this whole thing (not that I believed donating blood was a pass/fail kind of thing at the time…oh how naïve I was though).
Now the time has come to sit in the chair and actually get the blood drawn. They ask me if I have a preference of arm, and I tell them that the phlebotomists always have better luck with my right arm for lab tests. This is where I now disclose to them that they typically have to use the little pediatric needles on me when doing a blood draw and sometimes have “a little bit of trouble finding a good vein”. I also shamefully admit I forgot to drink extra water last night as you are supposed to. But I chugged a good 20 ounces with breakfast so I’m sure it will be fine! (anyone who knows me knows that 20 ounces is close to what I have in a an entire day sometimes..so I’m still thinking I am gonna rock this thing)
So they sit me in the right handed chair and start feeling around for a good vein. Immediately they are not happy with what they see (I say they because just from eyeballing my arm they’ve decided I’m going to be trouble I’m sure, so two women are inspecting my arm together, not just one). The one who seems to have more seniority attempts to improve the looks of them by switching to a tighter tourniquet thing to squeeze my arm tighter/better, all the while I’m squeezing a stress ball very quickly at their instructions. Even with all this, she decides it is not looking good on the right arm and they want to try the left. So I hop out of my chair and head on over to the opposite side of the bus.
I can tell she doesn’t like the looks of my left arm much better but she finds an acceptable vein and they decide to go for it (thank goodness because my forearm is actually already getting tired from squeezing the stress ball…I may need to up my resistance training ha). I look away, feel the slight pinch, and they’re in and the blood is flowing. Phew!! I’m feeling good and relieved seeing it going through the tubes (yes, I can’t watch while they actually stick the needle in but have no squeamishness about watching once it’s already attached and chugging along).
Then she says “uh oh, it’s slowing down”, and she proceeds to reposition the needle several times which feels a bit like she’s digging around in my arm. It seemed to pick back up for a few seconds though at least, but then I hear her tell the other woman it stopped. UGH. Apparently my veins were “severely dehydrated” as they put it, and this one “collapsed”. Yikes.
They ask if it’s okay to try the right arm, so I hop back on over to the right arm chair. Before they proceed though, they ask a third woman to come take a look. She apparently has the most seniority I guess. So she comes over to take a look, confirms what happened with the left arm, then tells me (in what felt like a slightly scolding tone, though really wasn’t) “I heard you saying you didn’t drink a lot of water last night” to which I nod and hang my head in shame. After just one more minute or so of poking at my arm she decides she’s not even going to attempt to do the other arm because she’s sure the same exact thing is going to happen, and I am released from the bus. I was at first disappointed they didn’t even try the other arm, but after seeing the bruise that occurred hours later, I am now relieved they chose that option.
They were actually very nice about it and were completely non-judgmental of my lack of hydration, and even still let me take a t-shirt. They offered snacks as well but I didn’t feel like I had earned my juice and cookies so I declined those, but did grab a shirt, because, I mean I can’t resist a free t-shirt. All in all, it was not the most unpleasant morning and could have gone much worse, I’m sure, but it was still very disappointing to see my sad little bag of blood filled barely about an eighth of the way full. Especially knowing that it most likely is just going to get thrown away I think and not help at all. Blood donation fail number 2.
So…lesson learned. Drink a lottttt of water before trying to donate blood. It’s ironic that in my planner this week I had written “drink more water” as one of my top three goals for the week. This was before I even remembered what was on the books for me, it was just an actual goal I’d set. In that respect, it’s a bit of a fail for this week. But I really am going to try to drink more water from now on. I swear. I’m also going to sign up for one more blood drive when they come back around in a couple of months. I’m going to drink so much water beforehand that I’m either going to totally redeem myself or find out once and for all that even if I am properly hydrated I just don’t have good veins (which would be a disappointment but would also slightly alleviate the guilt I’ve been feeling from this failed attempt, at least then I would know it really is out of my control).
So be on the lookout for an update in a couple months, I’ll let you all know how it goes. Thanks for sticking around for this random story that has nothing to do with clutter or cleaning, and have a great weekend! :)
Also, enjoy the picture of the desert below that I’ve chosen to depict as my dry useless veins.