A really long story about donating blood.

Somewhere along the way, I came to the conclusion that donating blood is extremely important. I donate regularly. I am also proud to be an organ doner. I mean, why should my usable bits and pieces be buried for eternity when someone could be getting some use out of them?

I suppose, when it comes to donating blood, I feel like it's the least I can do. I don't donate to charities, nor do I volunteer my time, and Hubs yells at me when I try to give money to the homeless (Scrooge)... so, I just feel like if I'm donating blood, at least I'm doing something.

Normally, the procedure is fairly painless. I have good veins. However, last time didn't quite go according to plan.

I had my very first panic attack. And when I told my mom, she finally acknowledged me as part of the family.

I had arrived to the blood drive a few minutes early and, since mine was one of the very first appointments, I had to wait a few minutes until they had completely finished setting up.

I was by myself (normally I like to use the buddy system) and the blood drive was being held at a neighbor hotel.

So, I sat quietly and waited. I looked up and admired the ceiling, then down at the floor and did the same. And repeat.

Then I looked over to the makeshift cubicles where they ask questions about your health and sexual history, take your heart rate, temperature, blood pressure and test your iron. I started thinking about that stupid anemia test. Having that little needle stabbed into the sensitive tip of my finger is definitely at the top of my "Things I Could Do Without" list.

I kept thinking about that little needle prick and then the collecting of blood into that little plastic tube. I once had a woman who just kept digging that little tube into my finger, trying to collect more and more. I think she was a sadist. The bitch.

Finally I was able to get my mind off that, only to find it settling on the needle they would use for the actual blood donation. This wasn't good. My mind was in turmoil to determine which part of the whole process was the most painful even as pitifully quiet Rational side of my brain kept trying to interrupt and explain that this really wasn't going to be that bad. It didn't work. The battle in my head continued until all of a sudden I snapped out of this weird haze to find my heart pounding, my breath coming in bursts and all I wanted to do was bolt for the nearest exit.

I wanted to go home.

I didn't even have a hand to hold!

Luckily, Rational found it's voice. I was able to level with myself and managed to calm down before they called my name. The nice man I met in the cubicle was very gentle. When I told him of my anxiety over the anemia test, he was able to explain why the test hurt and how there were other places in the finger they could prick that wouldn't be as painful as the tip.

There were only a couple of minor hiccups after that. Once, while I was reclining and waiting for The Needle to be inserted and a small voice inside my head said "It'd be nice if you made small talk." I don't enjoy making small talk with anyone, but I tried to think of something that might start a friendly conversation. "How long have you been doing this?" seemed a safe enough question, except if the answer was "two weeks" then I'd really start to panic. I mean, the nice man had a very large needle he was about to puncture me with. I wanted to believe he'd been doing this for years.

I asked anyway. To be polite. "Two months," was his answer. He might as well have said "two weeks" after all. Teach me to be polite.

Then, right after The Needle had been inserted into my juicy vein, the nice man frowned and said it wasn't quite where he had wanted it. I thought to myself, if you even think of taking it out and reinserting it I will kill you.

I think he heard me. He didn't try to move the needle and everything went smashingly.

It turned out to be one of the easiest donations I've ever experienced. Except for the panic attack, of course.

There's a blood drive today, which is why I bring this up. I'm a little nervous, but I'm not sure if it's because of the donation, or the possibility of having another panic attack.

This time I'm bringing a buddy.