Platelets
When the Red Cross called me a couple of weeks ago and talked about donating platelets, I listened. I had donated blood twice already, and the second time went much better than the first. Plus, they offered a $20 gift card to Amazon, and I'm never one to turn down free money to Amazon. I agreed and set up an appointment.
Tuesday arrived. My day had been planned. I had even done the rapid pass, so I knew things would move quickly. However, the experience didn’t turn out the way I had planned.
Initially, the first employee wasn't sure if my veins were good. What? That seemed unlikely, since I had donated before. She went to get her supervisor. After a short wait, another Red Cross employee walked in. He looked at my veins, and said they looked great to him. Fantastic.
Now they had to see if my blood was good enough (not anemic). First finger poke, and it was no good. Too anemic for donation. So he poked my other finger. Ouch! Those hurt. My second finger had qualifying blood, so I walked to my seat.
My helper explained the procedure to me. I was going to have a needle in each arm. One needle would be drawing the blood out, and the other needle would be putting fluids back in. They handed me headphones and a remote to the screen in front of me. I picked a movie on Netflix and readied myself for two hours of platelet donation. Let’s go.
At first, things seemed fine. As time went on, I started getting more attention. My guy kept checking my arm, rechecking it, adding more tape to one arm, then putting a gauze pad under the needle on the other arm, changing its position. He asked me to squeeze the squishy apple in my hand. Yes, sir. I did everything he told me to do.
After a while, two of his co-workers came by. They both looked at my arm, then the screen, and finally, at each other. One employee started moving the needle around (inside my vein!). This does not feel good, in case you were wondering .
The needle in my right arm was really hurting at this point. He talked about needle vibrations, and wondered if I can feel them? Um, no, I cannot. He moved the needle again and I winced. Almost surprised, he asked me if my arm hurt? Um…yeah, it does.
Disappointingly, he told me he was going to take the needles out of my arms. He turned the screen toward me, and pointed out that I was only 15% finished, and there wasn’t even enough blood to start separating out the platelets.
Whoops.
Boy, did I ever feel like a failure. Does this happen often? Do people come in to donate and have to leave after 90 minutes of being poked and prodded, and without any blood or platelets to show for it? I honestly don't know. I feel pretty badly about it.
I was amazed how quickly things had changed. Just a few minutes before, he had been talking to me about my t-shirt size (not in a creepy way--for the free t-shirt I was supposed to get). I didn't have the heart to ask about the Amazon gift card.
I started down the walk of shame to my car. As I walked out the door, the man who had been helping me said, "Don't give up on us. Come back."
I had no t-shirt, no gift card, and no sense of satisfaction. Come back? I've never been so glad to wear a mask in my life. Just forget me, please. Don't give up on us? Come back? His words have been heavy on my heart since Tuesday. Will I come back? Will I try again?
In my contemplation, I recalled a conversation with one of my daughters about feeling negative emotions. I told her to make a list of all the emotions she was willing to feel. I decided to take my own advice. I thought back to Tuesday afternoon...what was I willing to feel?
Embarrassment? ✅ Frustration? ✅ Disappointment? ✅ Annoyance? ✅ Shame? ✅
I wrote down all the emotions, and I had an epiphany. This entire time I had been focused on me. How I felt, what I wanted, what the employees thought of me…and I had missed the whole point.
It wasn’t about me! Donating blood or platelets was never about me or the gift card or the snacks. Suddenly, my decision was crystal clear.
Of course I'll come back. See you soon, Red Cross. ❤️
