"...those whose hope is in His unfailing love."
When I sat down to write this, I was totally inspired to write something lovely, but then Dad sat down next to me (I didn't mind that) with a bowl of yogurt and Grape-Nuts. CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH!!!!! Did you know that I hate the sound of chewing? Now you do. I have to distract myself when I am eating, with conversation or a book or something, so that I can forget that I am chewing so I don't drive myself mad.Okay, so I know both of my readers are just dying to hear more about my little ordeal at the Bloodmobile.
I was already nervous about giving blood before I got to the donation center. I wasn't afraid of the needle or how much it would hurt, because I honestly felt that any amount of pain would be worth the life I might save. I was more worried about a complication, like they miss my vein or I pass out. Guess what? Both of my concerns came true!
So I had an appointment at 11:00, 10 minutes after my Astronomy class. I probably should have given myself a little more time to go and eat something or at least drink a bottle of water, because I think that was part of the problem. I'll get to that part in a minute. I waited for almost a half hour, re-reading Love Your God With All Your Mind by Dr. Moreland (Cody gets to hang out with him and Dr. Reynolds for three whole weeks... in England!!!), so at least it wasn't wasted time. I actually meant to grab Miracles by C.S. Lewis, whose covers look nothing alike, but I was running late and I grabbed whatever book I could find in my rush out the door, my hair still wet and only the mascara that survived the shower as far makeup.
So a nice vampire, er, I mean volunteer, named Sally brought me into a little room where she took my blood pressure and temperature with a nifty little throw-away thermometer. She pricked my finger and took a sample of blood, which she dropped into a solution of copper sulfate. If the blood sinks, then there is not enough iron in the blood to be a good sample. My blood floated on the surface, so I was okay there. She then asked a series of questions like whether I had been exposed to the West Nile Virus or the Bird Flu, or been to Europe in the last twelve months or to Africa ever in my life, or if I have lived under the same roof as someone with HIV or AIDS, or if I have ever had sex with a man who has had sex with another man. I embarrassed myself and laughed when she asked that one, but she laughed too, so it was okay. When I told her that I had been to Mexico in the last six months, she asked which part, and I said Tijuana, but on a missions trip, and that I probably hadn't gotten anything nasty. We started talking about churches, and she invited me to her church next Sunday. Chelsea and I have been looking into different churches, so I'm kind of excited about trying this one.
We finished her little questionnaire and she lead me through the tiny little walkway in between the tables and beds lining the side of the bus, and I sat on the side of the bed while she pumped up the blood pressure thing again so she could find my vein. She found what she thought was my vein, marked the spot to insert the needle, and got the tubes and bags ready. She cleaned my arm and inserted the needle. Okay, that is a freaking huge needle. If you hate needles, do not give blood. That needle will make you pee your pants in fear. I'm not going to lie, it really hurt badly, but pain only lasts a little while, and the life of someone who gets my blood will last much longer.
I could tell right away that something wasn't right. I can't really describe the feeling, but right away I wanted that needle taken out again. She came back in a couple seconds and notices that the blood wasn't flowing, but barely leaking out. She waited a couple more minutes, and the blood still hadn't reached the bag (by the time it reaches the bag, they have to pull the needle because I would have lost too much blood by the time they try the other arm) so they remove the needle and try the other arm. Sally went to get "the expert," Lola, to do the second attempt. The needle went in fine and things were looking great, until they came back to check on me and the blood was barely flowing again. They decided to give it a couple more minutes before they pulled the needle again. I started to cry because I was so disappointed that it didn't work, and hey! What do you know? That got the blood flowing quickly again. So the needle stayed in. This attempt didn't feel right, either, but I just went with the flow, literally.
Almost 20 minutes have passed, and after 20 minutes, the blood would have gone bad. I just barely had the 600 ml needed, so they removed the needle and bandaged me up. I went to sit down at the front of the bus with my grape juice and cookies, and everything was fine for the first 10 minutes or so. The girl right before me has her snacks and leaves, feeling like nothing happened. The next guy came and sat next to me, and we were making small talk, when I started to feel really bad. I felt like I was going to throw up, then my ears started ringing and darkness began to creep in around my vision. I got really dizzy as I felt all of the blood drain from my face and little beads of sweat form on my skin. The only thought going through my head at that moment was, "Please help me," which I realized was both a cry to the volunteers and a prayer. The guy I was talking to told one of the volunteers, "Uh, I think this girl needs help..." I stood up to walk to one of them, and I start to fall forward. They caught me on the way down and lifted me onto one of the beds, lowered my head, and elevated my feet, holding ice packs to my forehead and chest. I don't think I actually passed out, but the moments in between being caught and on the bed are fuzzy. When the color started to come back into my face, they had me sip a can of Gatorade and lay there for about 20 more minutes. I felt well enough to sit up, so they had me go back to the front of the bus and have more grape juice and cookies. After 15 more minutes, they tell me I can go to class, which I am already 40 minutes late for. Total time spent in that little vehicle of pain, of both the physical and emotional variety: 2.5 hours. That must be a record.
I slowly walked back to my Astronomy Lab, and looking back, I guess I knew that something still wasn't right, but I thought my body was just recovering. I completely missed the lecture in class, which Professor Lane was a little upset over, until I took off my sweater and he saw the red wraps around both of my elbows. I was so out of it that I couldn't even figure out the scale to measure the velocities and distances of galaxies from Earth. I went up to Professor Lane to ask for help, and the same feeling come back - the nausea, the dizziness, the ringing in my ears, the encroaching blackness, the feeling of blood rushing from my head, the cold sweat coming from every pore in my body... Professor Lane looked at me when I didn't answer his question, and asked me if I was feeling okay. I shook my head and said, "I need help" - again, the only thought in my mind at that moment. He had me sit down and put my head on the desk (he was obviously never a boy scout - he should have had me lie down on the floor or something, at least so there was no danger of falling over and hitting my head), while he called Health Services. I don't know how long I sat with my head on my desk, it felt like no time had passed at all, but it must have taken them a couple minutes to get to the Astronomy classroom from the Health Services building. They took my blood pressure and asked me a couple questions, I couldn't answer all of them because I just couldn't remember the information they needed, like my ID number, and they helped me walk out to their little cart and drove me up to the Health Services building. Professor Lane packed up my purse and binder, which I thought was really sweet, and one of the nurses sat with me in the back and put her arm around me, so if I fainted, I would fall into her instead of out the cart.
I called Dad from the cart and he and Mom came and picked me up. The nurse very strongly advised that I miss the rest of my classes that day, and that I definitely should not drive for the rest of the day. I came home, changed into pajamas and slept for about 15 hours, waking up for dinner and to write a short art paper.
I have a massive bruise on my elbow from where the volunteer missed the vein. I'll hopefully get a picture up. My arms were still weak today, and my whole body longed for rest. The volunteer told me that I can try to give blood again in five years, but I think I'll do a breast cancer walk instead.
And you can never see my veins. That red mark in the center is where they kept stabbing me with the needle.I know I'll never forget that feeling of complete helplessness. It reminded me of that moment in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea when the sailor was about to die, and he called for help not in the language they spoke on the Nautilus, but in his native French. The only thing I could think of when I felt my body slip away, or maybe my consciousness slip away from my body, was to call out for help.
The best way I can describe that feeling or even liken it to any other experience I've had is when Cody left for school last fall. I felt like he had packed up most of me in that leather duffel bag and taken me along with him, and that not only was I missing him, but also myself, and the only thing I could do as I curled up in a ball on the cold floor in my room was to pray for help. I didn't even know what kind of help I needed, but just that God would see me there on the floor and do something. Of course, He did.
The rest is too personal to share on the internet, and maybe that was too, but that is the only time I have ever experienced anything even close to that feeling of complete dependency*, a feeling both beautiful and terrifying as I realized the frailty of life (not that I was actually going to die, but I was scared that I could at that moment).
I always thought that when I was about to die, I would try to be peaceful and calm, but as I fell into the arms of the volunteers and as Professor Lane helped me into a chair, I felt panic and fear. What if I wasn't going to be okay?
This is probably me over-analyzing something very minor in the course of the events in my life, but even if it is, I hope I never forget the feeling of needing help so badly.
"Blessed is he whose help is in the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord his God."
Psalm 146:5
Psalm 146:5
*a dependency on God, not on Cody... Just to clarify.
posted by Jess @ 10:44 PM
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