I really only have one goal in my life: I want to make a huge positive difference in the life of someone who never expected it. If I can do this before I shuffle off this mortal coil, then my life wasn't lived in vain. One of the ways I try to do this is by donating blood as often as I can.
When I was in high school, I couldn't wait to turn 17. Turning 17 meant that I could donate blood, one of the few things I could do at that young age to help make the world a better place. The first blood drive the school had after I reached that pivotal birthday, I strolled down to the gymnasium, signed the release forms, and nervously waited in line. When I was finally called, I gave my dollop of blood for iron testing and, after they put it in the centrifuge, I received the okay to donate. I watched as the needle was put into my arm and was pretty amused by the bag slowly swelling with blood. Thankfully, it didn't hurt all that badly; my arm felt like it was being pinched the whole time, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle.
Afterward, I stood up and walked over to the refreshment table for cookies and juice. I started feeling woozy after a few moments and the world started to turn grey. I told the student volunteer sitting across from me that I was about to pass out and I lay down on the floor. Somehow, the Red Cross workers got me on the neat wheelie chair and took me to a private bed where I lay for about 20 minutes, getting my strength back. The rest of the day was tough for me. Walking a few hundred feet wiped me out and I had to lay down a few more times. Still, two months later, I donated blood again.
It became a routine for me to donate as often as the Red Cross would allow me. I became a big advocate for the cause. My boyfriend noticed that every time I donated, I felt sick for hours after. One day, he asked me why, if it made me feel so crappy, I still donated. I told him that if someone's life could be saved by my feeling like shit for a few hours, it was more than worth it.
Mine is one of the most extreme cases for donation. The vast majority of people who donate feel a short period of weakness, then are back to normal. It amazes me when people tell me they could never donate blood because they "just don't like needles."
Today, I learned something new about tattoos and donation: if you are in a state with state-regulated artists using sterile needles and ink that is not reused, there is no time restriction on when you can give blood. As an ink collector, this was wonderful news. My state is one of the 32 that has such regulations in place.
I strongly recommend that everyone who is eligible to give blood do so at least once in their lifetimes. It's a great feeling, knowing that you could directly save the life of another human being. There's nothing quite like it.
If you're interested in donating blood, you can visit the American Red Cross website to learn more about it and to find a drive in your area.
If you decide that donating is right for you, thank you. You are helping to save the world.
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