I don’t know about any of you guys, but as I child I was that kid in the doctor’s office who needed “all hands on deck” to literally pin me down for any and all shots and those damn pin-prick blood tests. Yuck. Needless to say, when confronted with the option of giving blood, my first thought is always, “I’d rather go to the dentist.” Oh, in case it wasn’t obvious, I also hate the dentist. Anywho, # 115 (Get guilt-tripped into giving blood) is not an item I thought I would ever check off the list.It was spring semester of my sophomore year, and it was one of those fraternity-sponsored blood drives. All of the sudden, my friends started badgering me via Facebook, text, and in person to sign up to give blood. I’d been watching a lot of Grey’s Anatomy, so I knew how important blood was for a patient who was “bleeding out,” and I decided Dr. McDreamy would appreciate my extra blood. I signed up, and for some reason treated giving blood as though it were a fasting blood test. I may have A-plus blood, but that really was a dumb blonde moment. So I went through the whole interrogation by the nurse, and prayed that my blood pressure would be too high for me to give blood. It wasn’t; it was at a record low for me…just my luck.So I’ll skip the yucky details with the needle and stuff – because that stuff is gross. Anyway, I was just chilling on the table helping save a life (no big deal) when every single medical professional in the room started approaching me and asking me if I felt okay. At some point, I started feeling a bit awkward and just responded, “Why? Do I not look alright to you?” Perhaps that was a bit antagonistic, but if something is awry I feel like I should have been unhooked from the vampire machine and sent on my merry way. They didn’t do that though. I finished up giving blood, and I was sent to the snack table.I’m chilling at the snack table and enjoying some apple juice when the friend I was just talking to faints. She quickly gets wheeled away to the “help-the-fainted” area of the room, and everyone breathes a sigh of relief that she’s alright. That is everyone but me. I never do well in medical emergencies, and I followed suit and fainted. I, too, got wheeled to the “help-the-fainted” area of the room where a nurse started fanning me and laughing at how my face matched the purple shirt I was wearing. I came to, looked up, and asked that nurse for an extension on a term paper, thereby completing #156. She told me it was the most creative request she’d heard post-fainting.
Original Author: Jaime Freilich