Lately I’ve not been as disciplined in my donations, for
various reasons I guess. Perhaps it’s
having a son now that complicates my schedule, but it’s more than that. Things just seem to come up. And recently I keep getting sick, and they
want you healthy. Also, after I donate
my exercise ability drops for almost a week and I really feel it when I go to
the gym. But it seems that ever since I
started donating platelets last year my eagerness to donate has dropped a
little. You can read about the different
types of blood donations here,
and more specifically about blood platelet donations here.
Platelet donation takes a lot longer than the fifteen minutes
of a whole blood donation. The way
platelets are taken is that blood is drawn in the usual way but it is sent
through a centrifuge which spins the platelets out, and then the blood is
returned back into your arm through the same line. The same blood line (is it called intravenous
line?) goes through a cycle of draw and return, and the process takes about an
hour per unit of donation. You can
donate up to two units, which not including the mini exam and the prep stage,
takes two hours to complete. If you read
the website on the platelet, you’ll find that losing those platelets feels
funny. It makes your face tingly,
especially the lips, and your whole body feels cold. Plus it hurts.
That darn needle in the arm for that long starts to pinch and eventually
ache.
They seem to like my blood, those vampires…lol. I get calls from the New York Blood Center as
soon as I’m eligible to give again. I’m
a member of “The Gallon Club.” I’ve
probably given a few gallons actually.
They call and we schedule, and if it’s convenient I keep my appointment,
and, if I don’t, they call again and reschedule. Lately they’ve been more persistent in asking
for platelets. I’ve given a few times,
but last time I really didn’t have the time and said I couldn’t do it and just
gave whole blood. This time I scheduled
for the day before Easter since I figured I should be available that day. And then it struck me that giving blood over
the Triduum weekend would make it a sort of mini imitation of Christ’s
sacrifice: I’d give my blood to save a life.
When I got there this morning, and after I passed the mini
exam, the examining nurse said they were really short on my blood type, would I
mind if I gave one unit of platelets and one unit of whole blood. I said I didn’t know you could do that, but
if that was what was needed, sure. And
so he hooked me up. The machine
projected a completion time for both extractions of 76 minutes. I was ready with my Kindle, made myself
comfortable under the conditions, and set myself to re-read Edgar Allen Poe’s “William
Wilson.” The nurse came back a few
minutes into the extraction with a print out of a mini blood analysis and said
in his East Indian accent, “Your blood is VERY good,” whatever that meant.
At the forty-five minute mark (the centrifuge indicates the
progress) I had just completed the story, and actually one handed typed in a
little note as to why I enjoyed it and its concluding flaw (all of Poe’s
stories seem to have a concluding flaw to me) but it’s then I noticed my lips
were beyond just tingling, they were almost numb. My face was also a bit numb, but the numbness
seemed to go into my brain. And my arm
was really hurting now, not so much from the needle prick—he had inserted it
really smoothly, flawlessly—but from being locked into an awkward position for
good deal of time. The nurse had never loosened
the blood pressure cuff and my arm was more elevated than I ever remember at a
blood donation, and it was also hanging over, so that it felt as if my arm were
being stretched. The pain was in my
bicep mostly, and I didn’t dare shift the arm very much with the needle point
inside. A slight shift did help, but
then the arm went back into the same position and
exerted the same pain. The nurse responsible
for me had disappeared (lunch break I think) and the other nurse looking over the
floor seemed to be busy.
As I finished that short story and went on to another Poe,
my concentration dropped. My brain was
getting fuzzy. The pain was also getting
more to bear. It occurred to me at that
point that this was in part a little suffering in the manner of Christ on the
cross. My arm was pinned and being
stretched. This was like a half
crucifixion. However, don’t let me take
the analogy too far. Though this hurt, this
was nowhere near a crucifixion. I tried
to wonder what a real crucifixion must have felt like. I tried to project how two arms pinned and
stretched in this manner for three hours must have felt. Add to it that Christ was beaten and scourged
before hand, forced to carry a cross up a hill, and probably didn’t have any
food in him since the night before.
Well, I never called the nurse over to relieve the pain. This wasn’t suffering.
When I was finished, it felt so good to get my arm
back. I almost pulled it away before the
nurse took the needle out. He gasped and
caught my arm before I moved too far.
When I got up I felt really light headed. I had never felt like this before after
giving blood. I realized that Friday—Good
Friday—I had mostly fasted, and even this morning I had only a small breakfast. I normally would have a bit more if I were
donating blood. As I moved I felt very
awkward on my feet and told the nursing crew I was light headed. They had me quickly sit down and rest, and
the nurse went over and got me a bottle of juice. My head was numb. I don’t know how long I rested, ten, possibly
fifteen minutes, and then I got up and went to snack table to have some coffee
and cookies. I took another bottle of
juice and cautiously, still feeling peculiar, went out.
"I turn me and lean against the most Holy Cross of
Christ Crucified, and there I will fasten me." –St. Catherine of Siena.
Wow that sounds like an ordeal. It's great that you do it though! I can't give blood. I am just under the acceptable mark -- slightly anemic.
ReplyDeleteHaving a small child definitely changes everything about your life! It is another form of built-in sacrifice that we parents are actually blessed to have Not only do we get to enjoy our children, but we get to learn how to freely give. they never stop needing us, the needs just change. :)
What you said about Poe's concluding flaws made me remember about reading the stories of Singer. As much as I loved them, I really disliked the endings. I never felt any conclusion, they just kind of stopped.
Anyway--hope you and your family had a Blessed Resurrection Day! Last night was my ten year anniversary of conversion!
Congratulations! So glad you're part of our wonderful faith.
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