Donating Blood

I LOVE to donate blood. I absolutely glow at the prospect of sticking a needle in my arm and draining the life source from my body. If I could donate once a week, I probably would.

I went to a blood drive today, and was again immersed in the beauties of donating blood. First, I got a cute little Donor sticker so that everyone would know that I'm cool. Then I got to reread that infamous piece of literature, "The Little Red Book of Donor No-Nos." I couldn't suppress a grin as I looked around the room, breathing deeply the sharp aroma of Iodine and watching the squeamish students getting stabbed. Then, one of the phlebotomists came around the curtain.

"I can get you started over here," she said, tentatively.

She looked surprised when I veritably squealed and leapt from my seat, scampering over to the inquisition cubicle. After a pop quiz that I was nervously unprepared for, ("What's your name? What's your date of birth?" etc.) I got to take the computer questionnaire. It was fun, but I really think they should put a question at the beginning of the test that says, "Have you ever had sex?" Because then I could just say no to that one and skip about half of the test questions. Anyway, I passed the test, pricked my finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel, and was escorted to my lounge chair to start bleeding. (YES!)

Naturally, I was under the care of a male phlebotomist. A young, charming, male phlebotomist with pretty blue eyes who I immediately had a crush on. You have to give the Red Cross credit; it's a good strategy: after a minute and a half of talking to this man, I would have donated twelve pints of blood, completely trusting that he would never let anything bad happen to me.

Alas, I bled quickly, and soon was separated from my One True Phlebotomist, never to meet again. However, I had the glorious prize of NutterButters and little cans of juice awaiting me, and so I rejoiced, galloping dizzily out of the blood drive with my badge of honor wrapped proudly around my elbow.

No, really. I completely honestly love donating blood. I'm always nervous when I'm signing up, and positively terrified right before they stab me, but I always come out of it on a high (and no it's not because I'm delusional from blood-loss). When I was little, my parents used to go donate blood all the time, and I used to think it was the coolest thing in the world. I still do.

And recently, I realized why I love to donate blood so much. I'm not a serious masochist, and I wouldn't really go just to meet all of those attractive male phlebotomists. It may sound strange, but it's true:

I love to donate blood because I'm too scared to join the military.

I want to be brave. I want to save lives, to give of myself for the sake of a stranger. To be a hero. I am in awe of our servicemen and -women, and I wish that I could be like them. I seriously considered joining the military as graduation approached, because something inside of me had always longed to be the kind of person who risks her life for her fellowman. But I was, shamefacedly and regretfully, just too afraid to go through with it.

Donating blood is as close as I can get. It's really very similar, if you think about it. I spill my blood, having faith that someone, somewhere needs it. Too frightened to give my life, I give all that I can.

This, honestly, is my reason for donating. I enjoy the free food and the social aspect of donating with friends, but when it comes down to it, I donate blood to save lives. In the last two years since I've been old enough, I've donated four times. Those four pints of blood can be used to save twelve people, and twice as many infants.

Maybe no one will ever need my blood. Maybe it will sit unused in a refrigerator for years until it goes bad and they throw it away. But I don't believe that. Even if it was true, it doesn't hurt me at all to lose a pint every now and again. So as long as there's a chance that what I did today will mean life itself to someone down the road, it's worth it.

So, I guess what I've been trying to say - which would have been unnecessary had you been here to read my sticker - is,

Be nice to me. I donated today.