Because every work place needs a 911 call now and then.
I have this thing about needles. I don’t know when it started because I haven’t always had it, but whenever it started it started BIG.
A few years ago I went to get an innocent flu shot at work and I froze up. Standing in line, I got so worked up that I made myself sick to my stomach and not only did I never get the shot, I also had to leave work early. I am THAT pathetic.
Suffice it to say, I have NEVER had a flu shot and even when I am forced to get shots at the doctor, I work myself into such a panic that I am practically crying by the time they’re swabbing my arm up.
So it should surprise no one that I have never given blood. Because - gah! - that would involve a needle in my arm for far, far longer than I care to have one in there.
But yesterday the mobile blood drive came to work and I decided to conquer my fear and tick one off the bucket list. I steeled myself and went in, thinking of all the thousands of people that do this every single day and SURVIVE. And how important it is to the community. And on and on.
After answering 49(!) questions about myself and my lifestyle, I was taken into a little consultation room where the guy sat down and reviewed my answers. I kept hoping that something would throw me out - my tetanus shot 8 weeks ago? My trip to Egypt in February? There’s got to be SOMETHING that will get me out of this, right? Then the interviewer asked if I’d traveled out of the country in the past 12 months.
Well, yeah.
17 countries (each one needing to be looked up in a book to make sure I was safe) and 40 minutes later, they finally plopped me in a chair. The problem was that I had a meeting at this 40-minute-later-mark, and I had no idea that this blood thing was also going to include a background check on my entire family, including the cat. So, I let them at me, thinking I’d just go to my meeting a few minutes late. They’d see the huge wrap on my arm and all would be forgiven.
The blood donation went ok. I can’t say it was the funnest experience of my life, but I kept telling myself that someone, somewhere, needed my liquid gold. And when they pulled my plug and released me back into the wild, I ran up to my meeting, sat down, and promptly passed out.
The “Oh shit, call 9-1-1″ scream snapped me out of it pretty damn quick, and I tried to encourage an un-call of 911. Unless the firemen came first, and unless they were hot. Otherwise, I was fine.
Mortified and embarrassed, but for the most part, fine.
Needless to say, I was taken out of the meeting and back to the blood van where they checked my vitals and deemed it time for me to go home. Because no matter what shenanigans I tried, they weren’t going to bring out the hot firefighters.
I’ll have to come up with another tactic next time around.

