The Blood Donor...

Yesterday I had nothing to do and nowhere to go but then I got a phone call from my good friend Robbie. This was at about 3 o'clock in the afternoon and I only learnt afterwards that he had only been in the country two hours as he had come back from the Balearic Islands that morning. He wanted me to go with him to go and give blood. I was not too keen on the thought even though in the back of my mind I new it was obviously an amazing thing to do, it saves lives. We got to the hall where the donations were taking place and still I really wasn't sure. Robbie was filling in his forms and reading the information, and I was the one feeling nervous even though I hadn't decided to do anything yet. Robbie kept trying to persuade me to get a form and fill it in to give but I still was being a real chicken. Robbie was called up and I watched as the blood started draining from his arm. I then thought of what my mum would say if I got home and said I'd been to the blood donor hall and not actually done it. I could sense that from the very start I knew that I would feel guilty if I left the hall without doing anything, so whilst Robbie wasn't looking I went and got a form to sign up. I felt so much better for making the decision and felt less nervous than I had sitting with him. I had my pint of water they gave me and I felt better, though I can't lie, there were a few butterflies going round my stomach. My name was called and I 'man-up' came to mind so I just went for it. I was asked all the questions and my blood was tested for iron levels by the nurse squeezing blood out of my finger with a "sorry if I'm hurting you" as she squeezed her hardest to get a massive blob on my finger. Then the tourniquet came out and fastened to my arm to see what my veins were like. The nurse looked at me, poking at my veins like there was no tomorrow. Then the worrying "just a minute" came from her lips as she stood up and called over a different nurse. "It's a bit touch and go" I heard and the chicken in me rose up again, was it too late to back out? Robbie had now seen that I had changed my mind and had been grinning away but I knew that at this moment he would have known that behind that little screen I would be freaking out. The nurse came and prodded me again as my arm was slowly turning purple from the tourniquet. "That's a gorgeous vein" she remarked. I wasn't sure if this was a compliment and so kept my mouth shut and just smiled. She asked me my age and I told her I was 19, she seemed surprised, I have such a baby face and look very young. This was the final decision. "Maybe if you wait for a couple of years your veins will have matured. So we won't do it today." Matured?? I didn't know that veins had stages of maturity! Obviously mine were still in the teenage years like me and weren't wide enough. After all that and getting over my chicken fears of getting blood donated. I was rejected. For having thin veins. How disappointing. But at least I had got over myself. I filled in the forms. The feeling of disappointment was far better than guilt and the walk home was for better that way, even if Robbie complained about his arm just to rub it in that I hadn't actually got to donate blood. So in time, in a couple of years, then I can add giving blood to my list of firsts. Until then.