Give life.

Yesterday I tried to give blood. For the past several years, I've donated blood on a somewhat regular basis. And for the past year, I've been getting even better about it, marking my calendar for when I am eligible after donating.

I was supposed to give blood on Feb. 17, but my iron count was too low (it needs to be 12.5, and mine was 12.1). I was disappointed, but determined to add more iron-rich foods to my diet and try again. So, I went back 10 days later and tried again. I had the same problem: low iron. The nurse and I talked (again) about some strategies to get my iron higher, and I decided to wait 4 weeks before trying again.

Yesterday was the day. I've been eating more spinach, dried apricots, raisins, peas, and meat (mostly chicken). I was optimistic that my iron count would be high enough to make a donation. I had also been given the tip that if you shake your hands for a while before they do the finger prick, you'll get the blood flowing to the finger tips and have a better chance of the iron being okay. So, I walked over to the check-in area shaking my hands back and forth. Luckily, the first thing they do is check your iron. Mine was 12.6! Hooray!! I would be able to donate blood.

After going through the health history questionnaire, I went over to the blood collection area. I told them to use my right arm, as that's the one that's been used before. Daphne (the Red Cross employee) proceed to check my arm. She said that the veins in my right arm were quite small - a comment I've heard almost every time I've given blood. She asked if she could check the left. She checked it and had the same response but thought the right arm was better. She decided to call over a more experienced person. She checked my left arm, commenting on how small the veins were. Daphne agreed and told her to check the right arm. My right arm was examined and she noted that the veins were small there, too. They decided to call over the most veteran employee - a woman who has been an RN for 33 years. I thought, she'll be able to get it no problem. She checked both arms and decided to go with the right arm. As always, when the time came for the needle, I turned my head away and closed my eyes. I could feel her moving the needle around, taking it out, trying another spot. She asked, "Where did that vein go? I just felt it!" I was wiggling my feet, and I started to sweat. She finally gave up, telling me that I would have a nice bruise there. She got me an ice pack.

Would you like to try the other arm? I asked. I could hardly believe I was suggesting it. But, I was there, and I really wanted to give successfully this time. She tried the left. She got the needle into the vein, but said it was coming really slowly. I suggested she pull the needle out a tiny bit. She did, but that didn't help. Then she said that blood was leaking out of the site. Not good. We'd have to stop. And again, I'd have another nice bruise. And she got me another ice pack.

She thought that I might have better luck in the summer when the weather is warmer. We'll see. I also think donating after exercise would help.

My arms were quite sore last night, and I do have bruises. The left feels much worse than the right. Perhaps my body is telling me I'm not meant to donate blood anymore.