The summer I turned 10 years old, I had to have surgery to correct severe scoliosis. I had a stainless steel rod placed in my back. Cool, huh? Anyway, I was going to lose a lot of blood during surgery so I would need some transfusions. I needed 4 units of blood and had to give 2 of my own. So off to Blood Assurance I went. I was so traumatized by the ordeal that I vowed I would never give blood again for any reason, unless it was a life or death situation. In my defense, I was a little kid who had been stuck to death already and had a lot of scar tissue, which made for a tough (and painful!) stick.
Fast-forward to 2009. When Scott's mother became ill, I decided to go give in an effort to help her. Again, they couldn't find a vein, so I was unsuccessful. Never mind the fact that I had to sit in a side office with my head between my legs for 20 minutes because my pulse was too high to donate. They assured me that if I could handle them missing a vein, the actual donatation would be a breeze. I went back a week later and they were able to find a better vein. I was so proud that I'd done it and it wasn't a horrible experience. Once the needle was in and they left me to donate, I was so happy I cried.
Since then, I have tried to go as often as possible to donate. Seeing as I'm O-negative, I've always felt I should. All those years I didn't donate made me feel so guilty, so I'm trying to make up for lost time. The past few years I wasn't on a strict schedule, though. I'd just go when I remembered. This year I decided I would go after the 56 day period had passed and get it done. With the exceptions of being on vacation and going twice and having a low hemoglobin, I was successful!I gave a total of 6 times this year, so go me!!!
Me, donating, age 9
Bless my heart!
No comments:
Post a Comment