New Sport: Competitive Blood Donating

I'm a card-carrying blood donor. I don't donate as often as I should, but I usually do it at least once a year.

I got a donor card from the Red Cross on my first time. It says "A Positive" underneath my name. Whenever my wife tells me I'm being too negative, I pull out my donor card and correct her. "No, I'm a positive." That's about all I've been able to use my card for so far.

I had the opportunity to donate a couple weeks ago. As I'm sure you're aware, I started out by going through the rigorous screening process. I had to answer questions like...

"Have you ever made love to a cow from the UK?"
"Have you ever spent more than five days in Little Rock, AR?"
"Do you eat at Arby's more than twice a week?"
"Do you swim in public pools?"

I guess I cleared the screening, because I was sent over to sit in one of the reclining donor chairs. The nurse that was going to tend to me was just getting another guy started. He seemed rather confident, as the nurse prepped him for the needle. She worked mechanically, and it was easy to tell she was nearing the end of her shift

"This will be 6 gallons," he said proudly, and then waited for the nurse to give a compliment. It never came. "If you want to look away, now's the time," she said. "I don't," he said with a smirk, and he stared at the inside of his elbow as she inserted the needle.

He must have thought he could win a date with her if he came across as the bravest patient she's ever had, or something. Once she hooked him up he clenched his teeth, furrowed his brow, and started pumping away like he was in a competition.

The nurse walked over to me, went through my paperwork, and then started to clean my arm. "You're going to want to come over here, I'm almost done," the cocky guy shouted triumphantly. It looked like he'd broken a sweat. "Yes, you're about done," said the nurse. She then unhooked the blood bag. "What's my time?" he asked. Without emotion, she said, "4 minutes and 39 seconds." The guy's eyes lit up and he shouted "yes!"

I didn't realize they'd be timing me. I wondered if it actually was a competition. She walked back to me and again started cleaning my arm, then asked me if I was allergic to iodine. "No, I don't think so. What's it used for, anyway?" "It kills all the icky little germs."

I sure was glad she threw "icky" in there, because I wouldn't have understood germs were bad if she didn't. Apparently I look like an idiot when I'm about to give blood.

She placed a mini foam football, enveloped in a paper towel, into my hand. Then she inserted the needle and told me to pump away.

I was concentrating on two things; 1) trying to beat 4:39, and 2) trying to pump the foam football in my hand without having my hand come into contact with it. I figured the nurse must have placed it in a paper towel for a good reason; I believed the person before me had boogers on their fingers.

I finished, and the nurse unhooked everything. "6 minutes and 42 seconds," she said. I had thought everyone that donated blood was a winner, but at the moment I didn't feel like one. The donkey next to me had beat me by two minutes.

I sat in shame as I consumed my trail mix at the recovery station. However, as I moved on to my apple juice a thought came. I realized it was time for me to live up to my blood type, and be "a positive" person. I had just given life. I was a donor of a vital body fluid. And I'm sure the receiver didn't care if it took over 6 minutes.

Phot0: http://ia.utep.edu/Default.aspx?tabid=31047