My Near Death Experience...

Me and blood.  Not a good mix.

Case One.  For my pre-mission health check I had to give a blood sample.  It was only a teeny weeny bit of blood, but I went all queezy and faint.

Case Two.  For my tour guiding exams I had to take a First Aid course.  The instructor was only talking about a broken arm and my queezy, woozy, blood-drain-from-face feelings came rushing back, and I had to go to the back of the room and sit on the floor until I gained my composure again.

Needless to say I have not been asked to star in any of the Twilight movies, and Stephanie Myers seems to be avoiding me. 

So, here I am happily bobbing along through life when I receive the announcement that this year's national project for Mormon Helping Hands is for everyone to give blood.  Huh!   Blood!  Me!   Hold on, let me sit down for a bit.  Ok...I'm fine... deep breaths... focus on ice cream.  Phew, that's better.

One of my church callings is Public Affairs which means I had to encourage everyone to participate.  Putting on the brave face, I boldly sign up.   I convince myself that years have passed, and I'm a different, more mature man now.  I've had six children who have toughened me up.  I mean how difficult can it be, tis only a pint of blood.  Thousands of people do it again and again.  No problem. 

This is how the day went.

The Blood Donor

The grand day arrives. Forms filled out. Medical interview done.  Dead proud of myself that I'm not even wishing the nurse will declare "Sorry, you can't give blood due to bookselling being such a high risk occupation."  I feel confident I can do this.  So I quietly sit on my chair thinking of shoe polish, Bulgarian economics and the recent down trend of bee populations.  My musings are interrupted by a cold, wispy voice,

"Next victim"

I can see the evil glint in the nurse's eyes as she stares into my soul.  I'm sure her name was Victoria.  She obviously had a troubled childhood and takes delight in stabbing people with large needles.  But, recognising my steely resolve, she hands me over to a male nurse.   She called him a nurse, but I could see through the whole charade and sensed his depraved blood sucking tendencies.  He didn't speak much, but I knew that was only so he could hide his fangs.  He forces me onto the bed, stabs me, and hooks me into the life extraction machine.  No compassion.  No mercy. 

I'm doing it.  I'm giving blood.  They must have taken 6 pints out of me already and only 5 seconds have passed.  I don't have long to live.  I should have gathered my children around me this morning and told them I love them.    I hope they remember me as a good father. 

Focus.  Focus.  I'm not fainting; I'm doing it.   Look at the light fittings.  Examine the coving.   No queeziness.   Look at the hooks in the ceiling - those must be for hanging decorations.  They haven't put them in straight.  I shall have to address this issue to their parish council.  I must be at the 20 pint mark by now.  Just seconds left before they suck me dry.  Tell my wife I love her...

Uhhh  oh.

That feeling is coming.  Stomach feeling tense.  Blood draining from my face.  Feeling ... not good.   Something about me caught the attention of one of the nurses (it could have been my ablino face colour, the contorted facial expression, the gasps for air...).   Suddenly I'm surrounded by medical folk.  High alert.  A flurry of activity.  They whip the tubes out of my arm and take my 32 pints of blood away.  They raise my feet.  Put a wet cloth on my forehead.  Make me drink and drink.  Tell me to tense my buttocks (huh?).   I'm sure the paramedics are on alert in the corridor.  The emergency helicpoter is on its way.   The newspaper's obituary section is put on standby. 

Gradually, calm is restored.  And my life is saved.  'Victoria' tries to console me in my aborted blood donation.  "We had to stop the donation, but we took about 200 ml."  How can she lie so well?  She didn't even bat an eyelid.  I saw them taking the barrels of my blood out, so I know the truth.

The aftermath
Now when I see news reports of an accident or a sickly child or an operation I can't help but think they will be using my blood.   They will, of course, only be using my blood for the most imporant medical cases.   OK... even if it was only 200 ml, I might not have saved a whole person, but at least I can say I saved someone's toes.  

I have not heard yet when the medal ceremony is taking place.  It shall be a wonderful occasion with brass bands, streamers and large cheering crowds.  I would not be surprised if royalty are pulled in to present me with my medal. 

All in a day's work.