A few months ago, it was a typical day in my high school cafeteria. Nothing seemed out of the usual. Then I was approached by one of ABI representatives, and asked if I would like to donate blood. All of my friends sitting at the lunch table replied with the unanimous, “no thank you.” It was what they did every time a blood drive peered around the corner—it was what everyone did. Students invariably heard of “bad experiences” while giving blood, like passing out during the transfer or bruises that came in a few days afterwards, and that caused people like my schoolmates away from giving blood. And even I’ll admit, before I gave blood, I was also intimidated by the accidents that could’ve happened.
But as I was sitting there amid my peers, I thought back to what my 7th period teacher told me a day before. Apparently, there was a blood deficiency at our local hospital; many patients had no idea where they would find their monthly supply. And the more I pondered on that thought, the more obliged I felt to help those in need—to provide for them when no one else would. So I took a leap of faith and picked up the sign-up forum for the blood drive. Of course I was still anxious about what could happen during the blood drive, but I wasn’t aware at the time that those accidents were very rare cases.
But as the days slowly crawled to the day of the blood drive, the fear began to nullify. Meanwhile, my friends constantly teased me about it being my final day of living, but I didn’t let it get to me at that point. Instead, I didn’t focus on my well-being, rather I distinctly thought about the blood deficiency—about those patients inside the hospitals.
The experience I had went smoothly. I was greeted by a male ABI worker as he sat me down in a corner, where he worked diligently to finish my information. Afterwards, I was escorted to a bed where I met a female ABI nurse. She was affable, and made sure that giving a pint of my blood wasn’t a big deal to me. Her name slips my mind, but I remember particularly my time with her. We talked about my school life, my family, and such; but throughout it all, she kept noticing that I was very shaken-up. It was my nerves getting to me about earlier. A myriad of times she asked if I was alright, but being the guy I was, I didn’t want her to discover that I was slightly scared of the sight of blood.
Before that time, I never donated blood in my life. The only other experiences I had with this sort of thing was when doctors required a blood sample from me, but I would always look away during those times. This time was different though, I was never asked to give up as much blood as I did now. When I approached the bed earlier, I happened to glance at an empty blood bag on the table. It seemed so much bigger at the time, and suddenly I had this chill once I saw that bag.
But despite my apprehensions, the ABI nurse made me comfortable in that environment. I never did tell her I was afraid at the time, but from the constant amount she asked if I was alright, it was obvious that she knew. I’m glad she never called me out on it though, she was really nice.
I decided to ask her a question, if many people came to blood drives like these. Her response was surprisingly genuine. She told me that, regardless of any school they went to, people didn’t really sign up that much. I shouldn’t have been so shocked, I mean I already figured as much. My schoolmates chose not to donate blood either because of the so-called “accidents,” it was a nunance for their schedule, or they just didn’t have an interest. But what bothered me was that there was a blood deficiency at the time. Didn’t they realize that? Patients depended on what we had an abundance of, their lives were at stake, yet we didn’t care about it—not if it interfered with our schedules or our own well-being. Malaise stirred inside of me the more I thought about it. Why aren’t they all as willing?
Anyway, before I knew it, the process was finished; they wrapped my arm with bandages, offered me water to hydrate my fatigued self, and then they sent me on my way. I had to sit in a chair for a few minutes before I could leave, lest the off-chance I pass out while driving. But I was fine. I just kept thinking about donating blood as a whole, of how much it really meant when someone takes the time out of their busy lives to help another. I realized that not many people did that, not for the sake of another. My school teachers always used to tell me how important it was when you donated blood, but now it really was put into perspective for me. This wasn’t just a process you did for some free T-shirt or to get an hour out of class. No, this was someone’s life supply.
I continued to ask myself the same question: why aren’t they all willing? To this day, I don’t have an answer for it. However, I do know one thing. From now on, I will be the one that takes a stance for this cause. I’ll encourage my friends to join me in donating blood, because now I truly know its value to another. And I won’t let it be brushed away as many time as it’s already been. I’ll push my own wants away for someone’s needs. Never did I think something so simple could impact me as much as it has, but I’m glad it has.
Now, the next blood drive is coming up. I’m actually volunteering with my EAST class (a class that basically works with people to better Arkansas’ community) to help work with the blood institute this time around. And I’m happy to be a part of it. Blood drives deserve more help, and more volunteers while we’re at it.