Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Believe me, I earned that t-shirt
I had earlier decided I probably wouldn't blog about this because it was just too embarrassing. Then I remembered that that never stopped me before.
On Monday when we returned to school from Spring Break, there were signs in the hallway announcing that the blood drive people were going to be at school on Wednesday taking donations in the gym. I was glad, since this would be the first time I've qualified to give blood since before I was pregnant with Isaac. I like being able to donate blood; it makes me feel like I'm doing good for someone and it doesn't take a sacrifice for me other than a few minutes and a momentary sting. Pain isn't a big thing for me; never really has been.
They gave me the usual battery of questions, checked my blood iron levels (I was a 14), measured my blood pressure (90/70 -- yay for blood pressure medication) and declared me fit to give blood. I leaned back in the nice blue chaise and they hooked me up. Within two minutes I began feeling odd, but I breathed evenly and slowly and sipped some chilled water.
"Your output is terrific," the attending nurse declared. Her voice sounded very distant, which I knew meant that I was on my way out of Conscious-ville.
"I think I'm going out," I said.
When I opened my eyes, there were several people around me, putting cold cloths on my head and telling me to open my eyes and wiggle my feet and sip some water. "Oh, no, I'm sorry!" I said.
"Don't worry," my nurse reassured me. "It happens to some people. Just drink some water and keep your feet moving." She was very kind and kept chatting with me. "You're putting out plenty," she said. "It should only be a couple more minutes."
I felt alert and okay again fairly quickly, and thought I'd make it through the session without any other problems. Suddenly, however, I felt it coming back on. "I think it's happening again." I couldn't keep my eyes open; all I wanted to do was go to sleep, which I knew wasn't a good thing to do. After a few more cool cloths, I said, "I think I'm going to throw up." They put a bag over my face and I puked HARD about four or five times... and realized to my horror that I had just lost the contents of my bladder as well.
I began feeling better after vomiting, but was quite concerned about the lovely warm feeling under my behind. "I think I peed myself," I whispered to my nurse. She confirmed it and said, "I think you'd better not bend over when you leave here." I agreed, and after a short recovery period in which I made sure there weren't a lot of people hanging around, I made my escape. Thank goodness school had already gotten out, and I was able to scuttle out to the van and put a plastic bag in the seat and drive the six blocks back home.
Yes, by gum, I did earn that t-shirt. Not sure I want any more, however.