The countdown has officially reached 26. 26 days until I pack up my life in one suitcase. 26 days until I say goodbye to my family and friends for three months. 26 days until I go to Paris! As my departure date draws nearer, my bank account grows smaller. The preparations and the program itself have managed to soak up all of the funds I have been working so hard to attain this summer, so when a friend recommended I donate plasma for some quick cash, I couldn't resist. Looking back, I realize I should have resisted. I mean, how can you even trust a place that asks you to "donate" your plasma. You're not even donating anything! They're paying you! It's basically prostitution of your blood.
First, let's rewind to about a year ago when I had to have surgery on my knee. The doctor recommended I get some blood work done prior to surgery to see if that could shed some light on what the mysterious ailment in my knee was. After hearing that counsel, my mother and I went straight from the doctor's office to have my blood drawn. Now I wasn't too keen on having some strange nurse take my blood, but I wasn't afraid of it either. They were going to poke my arm and take some blood. No big deal right? Wrong. The second they pricked my arm, I was out cold. I can't explain what made me pass out, but I did. So why I thought I would be able to donate plasma, is beyond me.
K, so let's fast forward to last week. It was a dark and stormy night. Okay, maybe it wasn't night, more like 6:00 in the evening but it was dark and definitely stormy. That should have been my first clue. Thunder, lightning, and flash flooding is bad mojo for plasma donation. But nevertheless, I made my way over to the plasma center after work, where I met my friend, Krista, who I had convinced to come with me. When we walked into the center I couldn't believe how many people were there! The place was packed! Really? There's this many people in Idaho Falls desperate enough to sell their plasma? The receptionist came up to us and explained that the storm had caused a power outage that had put them way behind. That's why there were so many people there. But having nothing else to do, Krista and I took a seat in the waiting room, determined to get our money.
The wait was surprisingly short, considering how many people were lined up to get their vitals checked. Before I knew it, a phlebotomist called me up to the counter and began going through the paper work and having me sign that I was indeed there on my own free will and all that fun stuff. She then walked me over to a room where dozens of people were hooked up to nasty vampire-esque machines that were sucking their blood out and pumping it back in. She had me sit down just so she could test my veins to make sure I could actually donate plasma. I looked at the guy across from me. Hmm there's his blood being swirled around above his head. That's kind of gross. Oh well, if I can look at that and be fine, I shouldn't have a problem. I can get through this. I was further encouraged as the phlebotomist told me I had excellent veins before taking me back to the counter to check my vitals.
That's where the trouble started. For some reason, as soon as I sat down I began feeling extremely lightheaded and a little nauseous. It's okay, just breath. I mindlessly obeyed as I was told to put my hands under the black light Maybe I can lay down for a while before I actually have to start donating. Or maybe I should tell her now that I'm about to pass out. "Okay, now I'm just going to do a quick finger prick...." Uh oh....bad idea...I really couldn't think straight and I was having a hard time coming up with a way to tell the phlebotomist that I was fading fast.
"I umm.....this is...umm....I don't think this is a good idea.....I think....I might....pass out."
"Just put your head on the counter...." Huh, someone's talking. I wonder if they're talking to me....
"Alex! Put your head on the counter!" Oh, they are talking to me. Good, I would love to rest my head...
"Get a wheelchair....."
Yeah, before I knew it I was being wheeled past the dozens of people who had accumulated around the counter. Awesome. I must look like a total loser. By the time I got to the head physician's office, I was feeling much better and was able to tell them so. I sat up and helped them to get the blood pressure sleeve thing around my arm. The good thing about passing out is that they always give you snacks. When Krista came looking for me, she found me comfortably sitting across from the head physician with a water and bag of goldfish. I was questioned about what I had to eat that day and at what time and finally I was forced to admit that I had passed out before doing similar activities. That's when I was informed that I couldn't now, nor ever, donate plasma, and that as soon as my blood pressure was high enough, I should leave the building, and never go back. Yeah, I got blacklisted from donating plasma.
Well lucky for me, Krista couldn't donate plasma either. She had shellac on her nails so when she placed her hands under the black light, they lit up like a Christmas tree. So we both happily left the evil place that steals your blood and headed to a place we were both much more comfortable--the mall. So moral of the story is, I don't do blood, I don't do needles, I don't do doctors, and apparently I don't do black lights either. Also, the "Help A Struggling Young College Student Get To Paris Fund" is now open and accepting donations. (Real donations, not the kind I have to pay you for...like plasma).
