Blooded

Having had my blood sucked dry figuratively all my life by the costs of living, I finally got the taste of having it done literally today. Of course not until I am bone dry, so rest assured, this blogger ain't going nowhere for now.

My dad has been a life-long blood donor, up until very recently, when they told him he was overaged. Nevertheless, he has always encouraged me to do the same. My response every time has been the same, ' See first-lah'. I am not one to go out of my way to do something, unless it has anything to do with girls of course, and this was no different. But things have a way of dropping into your lap, and the news that my school's Sixth Form Society is having a blood donation drive made the choice for me. I did not have to go out of my way to donate blood, in fact I would have to go out of my way to NOT donate, as some of my friends are inclined to do.

Anyway, since I am still not legally 18, I had to get authorisation from my old folks, nevermind the fact that 'legality' was just 3 days away. Old pops was more than happy to let me spill my blood, though Mum as usual had her reservations, but allowed me to do as I wish anyway. Seeing as the campaign was big news if not a big deal to us Sixth Formers, it was certainly a hot topic for discussion. Some of my classmates dredged up old horror stories about the ineptitude of the nurses, usually involving the relative of a neighbour of a long lost friend's father, or something like that. Most of them have a grain of truth in them though, and I was a little apprehensive.

Regardless, when the day came, I was up for it, nevermind my heart that was threatening to show off how much it can dish out a beating nor the legs that were making a better impression of jelly with each step to the blood donating area. I had counted on the companionship of a few classmates to shore up my courage, but it turns out that only less than a dozen were up for it. Oh well, I guess it's true when they say that courage comes from within.

When I got there, there were loads of students already milling about. To be blunt, it was a mess. Most of them were there to just soak in the atmosphere, or perhaps Count Dracula was a distant ancestor. In my opinion, they also had too many redundant people on duty. Most of them don't seem to know anything whenever I had a query. In a nutshell, they served to choke up the place.

After wasting about half an hour trying to figure out where to get started, I finally located the correct line, while munching curry puffs and muffins. Ah, the food, glorious food. The food line was limited to muffins and curry puffs, but at least it was all you can eat, and that was enough for someone who's about to lose a pint of his blood. Who knows, I might not make it, and I would want to have a last meal, even if it consists of curry puffs and muffins.

The line might seem long at first, but the next thing I know, I was already in the adjacent room staring at a senior gushing out blood into a bag. Whoosh, and there was an empty cot. This was the moment of truth, but then I already know the ending, for Peter will always go through with his actions. I strode past the a few other prospective donors who were still 'discussing' whether to take this opening. The cot was hard, and I made a tactical error in selecting a cot facing directly the doorway, with the sun in my eyes, but other than that I was ready to roll.

The guy stabbing me was quite young, looked to be in his 30s, and the moment before the needle poked, all the horror stories came flooding back. Ok I just made that up, it was not so dramatic. Actually, I was bantering with the next few people in line, all bravado and bluster. Owing to my location, I was probably the only one there to be able to convey my (feigned) pain. The jab itself was not that painful. In fact, getting stabbed by a spring-loaded lancet moments earlier to determine my blood type hurt more, so much more that I was thinking about the prick more than the big needle in my arm. I would say then that this process was the most painful. Hours later, I would be proven wrong when ripping off my plaster though.

I felt fine even though I am 1 pint lighter and wasted no time in pigging out at the food table. Munching on yet another piece of curry puff, I came to the conclusion that blood donation ain't that bad at all.

Public Service Announcement: Please Donate Blood.