SAA Ep. #50: A Phlebotomist's Work is All In Vein!

We've already established that vampires do not, in fact, give blood.  Therefore, I am not a vampire.  Also, the kids I babysat last night confirmed that given the fact that I eat food, I cannot be an android.  So, I'm neither an android nor a vampire. 

Also I gave blood on Friday.

I know, I know.  We've already had a socially awkward adventure dealing with a blood drive.  I can't help it if there's excessive awkwardness to be had by going to wait in line to get asked a gazbillion embarrassing questions and then having a big ol' needle shoved in your arm.  That's just how it is, my friend.

I've only given blood twice recently, so maybe I'm jumping the gun, but I really think I've figured out how to have the most socially awkward fun at blood drives.  The key is to wait until the last couple hours of the blood drive.  That way all the people working at the blood drive are tired and starting to get loopy.  Now, please don't misunderstand.  They're still doing their jobs well.  I seriously doubt they got my blood mixed up with another person's blood or anything like that.  They just started acting a little silly and saying whatever came into their heads.  And sometimes that was awkward.

For instance, there was this really nice, seemingly normal lady (RNSNL for short) who came to help me get situated on my medieval torture device blood donation chair.   I was glad it was her and not Hot Guy.  Hot Guy actually wasn't all that hot, honestly, but he was a reasonably attractive 30ish aged man who stuck out like a sore thumb--like an attractive sore thumb--amongst all the 40-50 aged women who were working the blood drive.  But whether Hot Guy was actually hot or not doesn't matter.  I would have had all sorts of awkwardness around him, and to be honest, I was already nervous enough.  Something about getting a needle painfully jabbed up my arm tends to make me slightly less than comfortable, you know....

Anyway, so RNSNL helped me get on the table and put one of those tourniquet things on my arm, all the while asking if there was anything she could do to make me more comfortable.  The first thought that came into my head was, "Well, yes, you could stop cutting off the circulation in my arm," but I figured that was kind of necessary.  Then she gasped.  I immediately looked at my arm, then at her, then at my arm again, expecting to see my own blood gushing out from somewhere.  But no needle had touched my skin at that point.  No, RNSNL was gazing in awe at my arm, as if she had never seen veins before.

"Your veins are exciting!" she exclaimed.  "I never thought I'd say that a person's veins are exciting!"

I gave her a courtesy laugh and thought to myself, "Hmm, I never thought I'd hear you say that, either."

"Your veins are just SO exciting!" she said again.  Then she went off and left me to squeeze a plastic handle in order to excite my veins even more.

A few minutes later, another completely different RNSNL, who was standing by the side of another victim donor, suddenly gasped and started shouting at me.  I looked at my arm.  I looked at her.  I looked at my arm.  No blood.  But she came rushing over to me and yanked off the tourniquet thingy.  "Your fingers were turning purple!  They were the same color as your blouse!" she gasped.  And I suppose my fingers were a lovely shade of lavender, just like the shirt I was wearing.  Apart from being ghastly pale, my skin also changes colors easily.  My fingers felt fine.

So I laughed and tried to reassure the second RNSNL.  "Don't worry," I said.  "My skin changes color."  She looked uncertain, so for some inexplicable reason, I added, "I'm a chameleon." 

The second RNSNL didn't laugh.  I don't blame her.  But before she left to return to her victim donor, she made a point of caressing the inside of my elbow and saying, "You have such pretty veins."

Obviously, I should find a plebotomist (there's your vocab word for the day) convention and start charging admission.  "Twenty dollars!  Twenty dollars to see the girl with the exciting, pretty veins!  And also, I'm a chameleon!"

I was kind of hoping that Hot Guy would come by and notice my veins, but apparently he's a leg man. 

Well, the first RNSNL finally got back with me.  She started rubbing my arm down with iodine, all the while muttering about what a blessing my veins were.  Then she did the necessary needle jabbing and left me to bleed in a baggy.  I'm telling you.  You haven't lived until you've seen your own blood in a baggy. 

Five minutes later, I had the two RNSNLs rush to my side and start frantically clipping things.  Apparently, they weren't ready for me to be done.  The second RNSNL said, "Girl, you are too fast for us.  You're a quick bleeder!"  The first RNSNL said, "Oh, what a blessing!"

Seriously, these people need a vacation.  I mean, I do try to bleed fast.  I kind of like rushing through that whole "there's a needle up my arm" thing.  But they were acting like they had just won the blood donor lottery or something.  I guess if I'm this awesome at giving blood, I really should do it more often.

Then, for whatever reason, the two RNSNLs left me all alone to hold my arm up above my head.  It was while I was in this ridiculous position when Hot Guy finally approached me.  He tenderly wrapped my arm in red stretchy gauze, all the while talking to one of the RNSNLs about how his girlfriend made crappy lasagna.  Frankly, I was getting mixed signals.  Was Hot Guy trying to hint that he had a girlfriend and wasn't interested in picking up chicks at a blood drive, or was he hinting that he would prefer a girlfriend with great veins who also made great lasagna?  Either way, he didn't mention my obviously spectacular veins, and I figured that a blood drive really would be a horrible place for a guy to pick up chicks. 

Unless you happen to be a vampire.  But then picking up chicks might have a-whole-nudder meaning.

Socially Awkward Adventures Revisited: Vampires Don't Give Blood

I'm hoping to give blood today, so I thought I'd repost one of my most popular Socially Awkward Adventures that was originally posted in October of 2010. Enjoy...and stay tuned, because I might have more socially awkward adventures to share from today's blood donation!

Vampires Don't Give Blood

Before I say anything else, let me inform readers of the fact that I am about as pale as a human being can get without being an albino. We're talkin' Edward Cullen would KILL (hopefully not literally) for my fair complexion (I even sparkle when I wear body glitter--or don't shave my legs). If you connected all my freckles with a brown magic marker (which, by the way, are not all that magical when you really think about it--false advertisement???), I might actually look like I have a tan of some sort. But my freckles aren't connected; consequently, I look like Casper the Ghost's big sister.

My nickname in middle school was actually "Casper legs." And people wonder why I'm socially awkward...

So about ten years ago or so, I went to a blood drive. I don't particularly LIKE giving blood or anything, but it seems like a nice thing to do since I seem to react pretty well to the blood donor process. I've never passed out or gotten dizzy or anything. I don't have any iron deficiencies. I mean, it kind of sucks (literally and figuratively) when they jab that needle in your arm (all the while telling you that it won't hurt a bit--which isn't entirely or really at all true), but at least you get free Swiss Cake Rolls at the end. All in all, it's not the worst way to spend a half hour.

Only this particular blood drive lasted longer than half an hour. I was in college, living with my parents and commuting two blocks to school--kind of convenient. The blood drive was near the campus, so I figured I could go to class, give blood, and come home. Only there was this ridiculously long line. I waited. I waited some more. When I was the very next person in line, my dad showed up and said, "Um, we're kind of waiting dinner on you, so if you could just hurry home as soon as you get done, that would be great!" I said they could start without me (knowing they wouldn't), because honestly, I was in this whole, "Gee can ya'll stop acting like I'm a member of the family now? I'm a college student!" Now that I'm living on my own, I'd really like someone else to cook for me, but yeah--hindsight is 20-20 and other various cliches.

So I finally get what I've waited over an hour for--that two foot long needle jabbed in my arm by someone who has only had about ten minutes experience finding arteries. I survived the giving of blood. I got a free tshirt or something cool like that. I don't really remember.

What I do remember was sitting down in front of a Sweet Gray Haired Volunteer Lady who handed me that Swiss Cake Roll I'd been waiting for. I ate it hurriedly so I could continue on home to eat dinner with my (as I thought at the time) lame parents. I got up to leave when the Sweet Gray Haired Volunteer Lady (or SGHVL--pronounced "Si-hiv-ul"--the G is totally silent) reached out and grabbed my arm with far more force than believable or necessary.

She looked at me with deathly serious eyes. "You can't leave yet."

It was like an episode of the Twilight Zone. Was she some kind of SGHVL vampire in disguise? Had she lured me there with Swiss Cake Rolls so that she could feast on some of my A positive juice?

"Excuse me?" I asked innocently, because honestly, I had no clue what SGHVL's problem was.

"You can't leave yet," she repeated. "You need to eat something."

"Oh," I said, wondering if SGHVL was suffering from dimentia and had already forgotten that I had JUST scarfed down a Swiss Cake Roll. "I ate enough. I'm good to go."

"No," SGHVL said, increasing the pressure of her grasp. I think it hurt worse than the needle they used to siphon my blood. "You don't look well. You need to eat something else. Sit down and eat."

"I feel fine," I protested, wondering if I had suddenly just broken out in hives or something. "I've given blood a few times before, and I've always been fine afterwards. I don't feel dizzy or anything."

"You don't look well," she repeated. "Eat something."

"I have somewhere I'm supposed to be," I said. "I really need to get going, so if you'll be a nice SGHVL and let go of my arm...."

"You're too pale," she said.

Then I understood. Of course! She didn't understand that I had a severe lack of melanin. I laughed. "Oh, I'm fine. I'm ALWAYS this pale."

She shook her head. "No, dear. No one could POSSIBLY be that pale and still be healthy. You are going to rest here and eat some more until your color returns."

"If we're going to wait until my color returns, we're going to be waiting a while. I never HAD any color."

I kept arguing, but SGHVL would not believe me. She was adamant to keep me there until either my color or Jesus returned.

So I sat down and asked for another Swiss Cake Roll. SGHVL smiled with satsifaction, released my arm, and leaned down to get me another prepackaged chocolate coated sugar rush. As soon as she wasn't looking, I bolted for the door.

It took her a few seconds to realize what was happening. She chased me, but luckily for me, I was 20 and she was probably close to 80. Plus, I had a head start. As I escaped into the parking lot in all of my pale non-dizzy glory, I could hear SGHVL's shrill voice calling out to me in the night, "COME BACK! COME BAAAAAACK!!!"

For all I know, SGHVL could be sitting in a nursing home muttering to herself about the "Pale One Who Got Away."

POWGA!

Pronounced "Powa!" The G is still totally silent.

Embarrassing Confession #5: Shoulda Had a Type A

When I was a kid, I used to drink V8 and pretend I was a vampire drinking blood.

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Sometimes I still do that.

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I may or may not have pretended my V8 was blood today.

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It was good.