When I was a wee lass, about 16 years of age, I decided to take a step into adulthood and give blood for the first time at our high school blood drive.
This was no light decision. I've never been super squeamish but voluntarily stabbing yourself with a needle and watching your own blood drain through it was never anything I looked forward to.
But I had made my decision and if I was going to give it, I was going to give it all I got. I was assigned to an early afternoon appointment so I drank 4 bottles of water, had two hearty meals, and was chomping at the bit by the time they had me in the chair.
I was going to be a blood giving champion.
I was extremely badass until halfway through. That's right; tunnel vision, temporarily deaf, everything goes black and white. And then I woke up staring straight at the ceiling to a wet towel on my head, a cup of crushed ice perched in my hand, and a flock of nurses circling around my head.
My darling mother told me that I was no longer allowed to give blood. While, I assumed, I was under her roof.
So last October I saw that the Red Cross was having a blood drive on campus and I had an hour or so to spare so I dropped in. Everything went great.
Today I realized that after my travels this summer I won't be able to give for a year so I stopped in another drive today and gave again.
Let me just say that I was complimented on my bombass veins and that I filled the little baggy in under 4 minutes.
So it is safe to say that I am now the blood giving champion I always knew I was meant to be.
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