Blood Drive

My campus had a blood drive today. I was hesitant at first on whether I should donate or not, but then I realized I would feel ashamed of myself if I backed out--I've already been consistent with donating every 8 weeks, and there won't be another drive for a while. So I signed up for a 4:45pm appointment. After a lunch (hummus, lettuce, tomato, feta cheese sandwich) and some fat-free Greek yogurt, I walked in to donate.

It went much better than last time. Last time, I was dehydrated (it was an extremely hot week, and I was outside a lot). I had barely enough blood iron (12.6), and it took me 11:40-something to donate. This time, I had 13.7 for iron and 5:24 for donation time.

Even though the main campaign for blood donations focuses on making people feel good about themselves with things like "donating a pint of blood can save up to 3 lives," it doesn't have that effect on me. It's more that I hate my body so much I might as well give some of it to people who would want it.

When I was younger, I was scared to donate blood. The thought about having someone stick a needle in me or drawing blood frightened me. But now, I have a masochist enjoyment of donating. The pricks when they test the iron and when they place the needle are not much different than if I SI myself. Feeling the blood draining from my arm and the lightheaded sensation after was euphoric. One of the blood tubes rested against my arm, and I could feel the warmth against my skin as it exited my body.

Even afterwards, I can feel my heartbeat not only in my chest, but throughout my legs and arms. It's like an awareness that I am indeed alive. And though I may feel exhausted walking, I can still push myself to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Unless, of course, it's thundering outside, and my laptop is in my backpack. Then I get the smart idea to run back to my dorm.

I now understand why they say don't do exercise for the rest of the day. Although during the run, I felt perfectly fine. I had good rhythm, good posture (at least as good as you can with a backpack), and excellent breathing. It's afterwards that my legs suffered. It was like a 5 minute jog, yet it felt like I ran a 10k race.

And the effect didn't hit the moment I stopped running. 10 minutes after reaching my dorm, my quads felt like stiff metal bars, refusing to contract or extend. I was in the middle of going back up to my room from the basement, and I had to stop on the floor before me and rest several minutes in their den before I had enough energy to make the last flight and into my room.

Regardless of what people say, I'm still going to keep donating just for the side effects to my body. I'm fat enough to fit the criteria, so I'm going to keep doing so until I can't "over estimate" my weight being 110.