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Thankfully I am not the same blood type as anyone in my family… as such I feel no moral obligation to give up my blood if they should ever be running low. The only time I am coerced into enduring this torture is when I go in for my yearly checkup. Let’s pause and really think this one through, shall we? I am nearly 21 years old, which means that I have consciously allowed a perfect stranger to stick a needle into my arm and drain me of my life like a dementor for well over a decade.

Step 1. Find out I need to give blood: Panic Ensues

I turn into a menopausal woman about this time, biting off everyone’s heads like a T-Rex. Remorse? None. If I have to suffer, so does everyone around me. I begin to feel alone in the world and fall into the first stages of suicidal depression. This is a very big deal.

Step 2. Fast for 12 Hours

Jesus Christ are you kidding me? On top of the fact that I have anxiety about getting my blood drawn and anticipate almost fainting and feeling sick for hours afterward, I have to starve myself. Do you know what it’s like to watch people eat and not be able to have anything? Yes well, you must be a vegetarian. The lack of french fries in my belly only heightens my irritability, punishing all those around me.

FUCK YOU MOSQUITOS

Step 3. Go to the Doctor’s Office

Is there a reason the temperature is comparative only to Antarctica in my doctor’s office? Not sure if it’s like this for the rest of you, but this also makes me more agitated because I’m sitting there in anticipation of getting the lethal injection and now I’m shivering and cannot feel my toes. Also, why are they playing JLo? Can I get some soothing rain forest sounds, please?

Step 4. Get a Monologue About How it’s “Not So Bad”

Of course they can see I am about to convulse any minute and am not gleefully anticipating being repeatedly stabbed. This is when Nurse Einstein (who has about the same amount of compassion as Ed Gein) begins to assure me that giving blood doesn’t even hurt and I’ll be fine. Oh I see, in the past 11 months they’ve developed a new way of drawing blood that doesn’t involve your grubby little paws cutting off circulation to my entire body, stabbing me, and lying to me about how much more blood you’re going to suck out of me before I faint? No? Still the same procedure? Thanks, I’m quite aware of why I hate getting my blood drawn – because it’s PAINFUL. The whole time I’m about to faint/vomit and feel like my entire body is slipping away from me.

om nom nom

Step 5. Leave that God Forsaken Hell Hole

Finally I can leave, but not before being instructed on how to pee (also something I have not mastered in over two decades of life). My mom is always sweet and takes me to Starbucks or some other tasty food place (remember, I’m STARVING!) I get to pretend to be a martyr and don’t have to open any doors/hold anything with my new appendage. Truthfully, my arm feels like a sack of bricks for the next few hours and it hurts to do just about anything with it. Then I get to look at this giant gauze pad soaked in blood for the day!

So, in short, does anyone have a good doctor’s office to recommend? Preferably one that gives you laughing gas before they take a pint of blood from you.

NV/R,

Maria

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