Saturday, January 12, 2008

Drama! Blood, Sweat, No Tears

It's true Steve. No matter how careful I am, or how far I run from Drama, it always finds me. Bastard.
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I'd been trying to think of some ways to make some extra money without getting sucked into another miserable, low-paying second job, when I remembered the shiny plasma center not too far from home. Shortly after we arrived a year ago, we both went there to donate (for cash), and I alone was rejected, due to the tattoo I had gotten just a couple months before (remember - the one for Beau?). They told me I'd have to wait a year until I could donate. Beau was passed though, and continued to donate plasma for a little while, eventually giving it up when he began working a lot.

Well, it's been a year *sigh* so I returned to Vampire Central. This time I passed their physical and after a couple of hours of questions and measurements, was allowed to join the others strapped to the thick needle.

Obviously, I wasn't excited, but I wasn't too worried either. True, I had given blood in high school, fainted, and broken up my entire face, but I'm sure that wouldn't happen again! *cough* So, I made myself comfortable in the ergonomically-shaped lounge bed -- I had my book, my cellphone, my bottled water (I'd already eaten their offered granola bar), and an Oprah magazine. It's a 45-60 minute procedure, so I was set. I let them stick my left arm.

The basic gist is that you sit there while it extracts your blood, separates the red from the white blood cells, deposits your whites into a large bag, and then afterwards sends the reds right back into your arm. This procedure is repeated several times until they get the amount they need (based on body weight).

Everything was fine for awhile. I was a little more bored than I'd expected, but comfortable. I knew to expect certain possible "side effects" like tingling in the lips, or a metallic taste in the mouth, or feeling cold as your blood is sent back into your body. So far, I had experienced none of that.

On my second call to Beau, I started to feel a little nauseated. "Erm, I better go," I said.

The second I hung up the phone I got hit with a melange of yuck. The nausea catapulted itself into the "so super drunk I could puke out an organ" level, so I had to do some real-focused Jedi mind tricks not to throw up. My vision began to blur and get a little dark. I got dizzy, and I have only felt dizzy like this one or two times in my life - the first being that time I gave blood and fainted. Next, a strange and intense burning spread across the width of my chest and I broke out in a sweat. Hmm, not good.

Starting to panic, I looked around for one of the many technicians that buzz from person to person, checking vitals and adjusting machines. I saw no one for a moment, which stunned me since they were swarming like ants previously. Finally, I spotted one, caught his eye, and tried to nonchalantly wave him over. No fool, he made a quick beeline for me and was at my side in a flash. Apparently, I didn't have to tell him the problem, because my face and lips, ghostly pale at the healthiest of times, were now an alarming shade of dead.

The place immediately sprinted into action, and within moments, the blood-sucking machine had been paused, and I had the doting technician and the chummy nurse plying me with water, ice packs, and taking my blood pressure, which had plummeted from its usual high reading. I began to feel better almost immediately, and felt the symptoms slowly, but surely, subside.

My blood pressure was now "normal," it hadn't ascended to its usual lofty position (reminder: I have hypertension). I asked them to let me continue, but they were both skeptical. Sure, I'll admit I was concerned whether I'd be paid or not, especially after having spent half my Saturday there, but also, I just felt real bad. I mean, I knew I was nearly finished donating my set amount, and I had gone through all this rigmarole and didn't want it all this trouble to be for nothing. Plus, I was embarrassed to be such a problem. But I guess it's a common occurrence for first-timers.

Beau came and got me, and I DID get paid (phew), and after giving them several reassurances that I felt okay, and being forced to down copious amounts of H2O, I was allowed to leave.

At home, I felt fine for awhile, but then suddenly, while cooking up some tasty Thai ramen noodles, started to feel all nauseous and blech again. I finally ended up taking a four hour nap, and waking up feeling okay, but slightly weak. Damn! Such a frickin drama over giving a little bit of blood! This was something I really wanted to do on a regular basis, but obviously not if it was going to be this ridiculous each time.

For the next day or two, I remained tentative. But by Wednesday, I thought I was ready to give it one more try. I figured, maybe it was just a "first-timer" thing and all would be well. And if it wasn't, then, that'd just have to be it and I'd have to start delivering newspapers or turning tricks.

After work on Wednesday, I showed up, and along with a gaggle of construction workers, made my way to the same reclining bed as before. I didn't know, if psychologically, this was a smart move, but I figured, face it head on! Plus, I'm just loyal like that.

I was somewhat apprehensive, and the pre-donation blood pressure check had me at the very highest systolic/diastolic readings possible before being booted out the door. But I tried to calm myself, and after the needle went in, I just tried to relax. As much as you can with a giant needle in your arm hooked up to a churning machine.

And well, this is where Drama appears once again to ruin my life, right? WRONG! Hooray for normalcy! I spent the next 45 minutes being drained of plasma and even had a fun conversation with my grandma, who had just taken down the red lights her daughter had put up around her window, after realizing that she had turned her apartment (which faces a busy street) into a mini red-light district. Bow-chikka-wow-wow!

The needle was removed, I got up slowly, and like an old man with arthritic knees, shuffled out of the place and drove home. All's well that ends well! Hooray!

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

So what does plasma donation pay these days? The equivalent of a fifth of bourbon, or better?

J. Cullinane said...

Ha! About $25 for an hour of your time. Not stupendous, but a lot more than I make an hour at work! And the money is immediate.

Jennifer Lavin said...

Mostly, I just love the labels to that post 'blood, drama, money'. Awesome.

Anonymous said...

We don't get paid for donating stuff here - whether blood, marrow, or organs. I do the first :)

Beachgal said...

I've always thought about doing that, but never found a place to do it. I donate blood when I can, tho.

J. Cullinane said...

I've donated blood a few times, but as mentioned, had a horrific accident after donating blood once, and so am not as gung ho and full of altruism as I once was.

Once donated blood in the Philippines to save a dying Jesuit (an American who had lived in the Philippines for the past 50 years!). We were both A- and it seems most of the Filipino population is O.

So, that means I get a free ticket into heaven. ;)