BLOOD DRIVE-REMINDER pops into my inbox this morning and instantaneously I feel as if I may pass out. These friendly little reminders have been invading my work email for the past two weeks and although I have immediately deleted the intruder the moment I receive, it did not prevent the “for a good cause” blood drive hoopla from making its way to our company building. Today is the day.
I lean over my desk and pull back the blinds, lined with dust, and watch the sleek white Mega RV pull up precisely outside my window of the building. The blood-red cross plastered across the side even makes me woozy. Big boobed blondes in their scrubs fall in line outside of Dracula’s castle, disguised as a transportable blood center. Their cleavage may work on the DOM (dirty old men) in my building, but no boobs are big enough, firm enough or fake enough to work on me.
Okay, don’t make me feel any shoddier about my unyielding decision not to be a blood donor but frankly, I just can’t do it. I mean, shouldn’t doing the right thing feel good? Not make you pass out and plead with the RN for an extra orange juice box and a cracker? Yes, I know it saves lives and one day it could be mine blah, blah, blah yada, yada, yada, but I would rather have a colonoscopy on live on the Ellen show than give blood. It has to be the most evil form of torture for me.
My father, God love him, did this to me. Sorry Dad, but it’s true. You dragged me into the local Masonic Lodge (which was terrifying in itself…have YOU ever been in a building with ZERO windows??) at the age of seven and while you had your veins poked and prodded for your precious blood, the masons sat me down at the table covered with blood bags. The mixture of semi-cult atmosphere and the skyscraper of blood bags made blood donation my own personal real life nightmare.
Any time I have to give blood, I sweat like a hooker in church, pass out multiple times and act like an absolute idiot. Just ask my mother. She is truly embarrassed to go to the doctor with me. Do you know what I fear about having giving birth? The needle that they stick in your arm….that has to stay there! That is inconceivable!
So today when everyone in my office is released to go give blood, I will hide under my desk and use I the excuse, “I was out of the office”, to hide my amorphous ethics in regards to blood donation. I will be looked down upon, degraded and tainted as the uncaring spectator who wont help a dying child that needs my blood. Maybe I should find my own cotton ball and tape it to my arm so it looks like I gave blood….would it be COMPLETELY morally and ethically wrong to do that?