The Gift of Life

It is a noble gesture to give the gift of life.

Especially since one day you may need to receive it.

I was excited to participate, but last night, somewhere along the way, something went terribly wrong.

I picked up Aaron and headed directly to church for my appointment to give blood. I went through the interview process and proceeded to a table. Of course, the technician found it difficult to locate a vein. All medical personnel feel it necessary to complain about my bitty veins. The "boss lady" was called upon for assistance and she agreed to get me set up. Aaron was allowed to come sit next to me, and everything was fine for the next ten minutes.

I felt it coming. Quickly. The nausea. I tried to get the attention of a staff member, but they were all busy. I turned to Aaron and asked him to get me help.

It felt like I could not vomit long enough to eradicate the nausea and bring my body back to equilibrium.  I was feeling so sick.

From behind me I  heard one of the technicians say, "Oh, just breathe, ma'am"

And that was it. Complete darkness. Quiet. Peace. And I wanted to stay. It felt wonderful.

I've watched enough medical shows (shout out to my early seasons Grey's fans), and I must say they do fairly well in depicting what it feels like. You come around in flashes. Your hearing and understanding comes and goes. 

Flash One

I open my eyes and I'm staring at my legs.

When did I put my legs in the air? Wait. I don't feel my legs in the air. If I can't feel them, how are they staying up? Ah, someone is holding them. Wait. I don't feel them being held...

Flash Two

"C'mon!"

"Hey!"

"What's her name?! Does anyone know her name? What's her name?!"

"Her name is Angela." (Oh, bless. Sweet baby. You should not be here.)

Flash Three

"Angela! Angela! Angela! Hey! Hey! There she is, stay with us, stay with us." 

I can see that Boss Lady is slapping some sense into my hand. My legs are STILL in the air?! They are taking off my shoes. Hmm...sorry peeps, it's been a very long day in shoes, good luck. Boss Lady is giving all kinds of orders. Get this. Bring that.

I don't feel good. Not at all. I'd rather not stay here. And I at least semi consciously make the decision to go back to the darkness. 

Boss Lady instantly knows...  "Oh no you don't...." 

But I don't know her. Her face is way up there; I have no connection to her. 

Flash Four

"Angela! Angela! Okay, we got her. Look at me! Cough. Say something. Angela!"

Oh my word. My legs are still in the air. There are like 7 people hovering.

"Focus on me, quit looking out there in space."

Boss Lady is not having it anymore. I can't seem to form words with my mouth. I can't seem to move either. But I manage to nod my head that I register her words.

She tells me they sent Aaron away. Thank goodness.

No-interest-in-vein technician rambles on in a whisper in my left ear about how scared everybody was, this is such an event. You are such a trooper so I'm giving you a first time donor sticker.  

They finally put my legs down and I take stock of my body.

Boss Lady finally finds a whisper mode herself and says, "Uhh, honey, do your pants feel wet?"

Every inch of my body is saturated in sweat, it is coursing down the sides of my head like rain. Yes. My pants feel wet. I've lost all control of my body for who knows how long. No need to be cryptic. Am I bleeding? Pooping? Peeing? What?

"Uhh, the floor is wet. I think you, well, never mind, we'll just get it cleaned up."

These people are not emergency medical personnel. I don't care how many times they told me, "This happens every day." Based on their ability to manage the situation, this was not a situation to which they were accustomed. I am not stupid. I can tell. 

Boss lady says, "Well, you were out for quite awhile, well, err, I mean no more than thirty seconds, but we couldn't get you back. I had to do a sternal rub and that worked right away. Your color still is not good. Your color was very bad and your lips were not pink. They still don't look great, but they are getting color back."

Interesting.

Everything is happening in extreme slow motion for me. I'm hearing all the chattering, but I am not talking, still trying to get my bearings. They talk about me not being allowed to drive home. They take my vitals and talk about making decisions for a squad. Never once do they ask to call someone for me. Really? Cause I might be dying. And maybe somebody out there cares about my death. Not to mention my nine year old son who at this point has returned and continues to observe. I direct him to call Ryan on my phone.

My blood pressure is still very low. Ryan arrives and provides moral support. They try to stuff me with fluids and snacks. None of which I want. But like a good patient, I try. My pressure begins to climb, slowly. This pleases Boss Lady who would love to wrap up and go home.

"You're a trooper" and "Way to go!" say the last lingering fellow givers of life as they head out the door without pee on their pants. I raise my hand in solidarity.

They finally let me go, it's already 7pm, and would you believe it, it's in the car that I begin vomiting.

Ryan wants to stop for a Coke as directed by Boss Lady but I tell him to get me home. Ya know, because I have soaked everything I'm wearing either with pee or sweat. I feel disgusting. And nauseated. And tired. And the kids need to eat dinner.

I feel like a senior citizen going to my bedroom. I can basically do nothing for myself I'm so weak

 and unwell. Ryan helps me get cleaned up and into bed, despite that I am grumbling about not being able to do it myself. I'm not one for extreme vulnerability. Have I mentioned I puffy heart him?

24 hours later and I'm frankly still recovering.

I still think donating blood is noble. I wish I could do it.

To my fellow rare blood types, I did this for you.

It's going to be my last time, because I can't make this stuff up. 

And, in the end, they couldn't even use the donation....