Comfort Zone--Giving Blood

In University Chorale, we have to do three Comfort Zone assignments throughout the semester.  Today, in fulfillment of the last of these, I donated blood.  Since I don't want to rewrite the chronicles of my experience, I'm just cutting and pasting here.  Enjoy!

~~~~~

I’m rather attached to my blood.  It’s mine and I like to hold onto it in caseI need it.  I’ve had my blood drawn inthe past for tests and stuff, but I’ve never just given my blood awaybefore.  But I always feel a littleguilty for when they pass around the paper for donating blood in Relief Societyand I never sign up.  So when I realizedit was the end of November and I hadn’t done my comfort zone assignment yet, Idecided now would be a good time to donate. I was grateful to see signs in the WILK saying there was a Blood Drivetoday, so I only had to walk upstairs than over to the center. 

From the moment I walked into the room, I started to feelanxious.  Does that mean I’m sick and I shouldn’t donate today? Iwondered.  But no, it was just the jittersI always get when I’m nervous.  I filledout the paperwork and waited for them to call me over.  I heard them mispronounce my name and I cameforward, correcting them as usual, and they took me to the hidden corner.  Inside a thin piece of tubing was somethinglong and shiny.  The needle!  Why does it looklonger than the needle with Mom’s glucose meter?  I turned my head away as the worker begantalking to me as she cleaned my finger.  Why did I pick my ring finger?   I wondered.  It’s so awkward to have someone hold that one!  With my eyes closed and mouth talking aboutmy life, I felt the prick and stopped mid-sentence.  “Oh, that wasn’t too different than when Mom’stested my blood sugar,” I said.  True,the pain lasted longer, but the initial sensation was within the same order of magnitude.

Once they finished checking my blood sample with their magicmachine doohickeys, they took me over to thechair.  My headphones recoiled infear, getting stuck on anything they could to avoid me sitting in the evil pinkchair.  I pulled the headphones away,stuck them in my ears, and turned on my “Mystery” playlist--which features mostlysoothing background music and very few songs with a “scary death” vibe.  The blood-taker-isicst talked with me aboutmy family and the books we’re both writing while she prepped my arm.  Again, I kept my eyes shut--just because I’mdonating doesn’t mean I have to watch.  Ikept talking as the blood emerged from my arm, my hand pumping every coupleseconds, sometimes in time with the music that entered my ears.  Some minutes later, I was done and one of themore “scary death” songs came on as I left the chair to go eat some snacks.  I’m not scared of emancipating blood from mybody for a good cause anymore.  Ofcourse, it’s going to be a while before I expand my comfort zone enough to watch it happen.