One Pint Closer to Freedom

I was eleven years old. I remember the anxiety I felt on the car ride to the Kaiser Permanente office. I remember my mom checking me in at the counter, and the way the receptionist looked at me with pity as my mother uttered the words, "Tetanus Shot". My shoulder throbbed in anticipation.

In addition to my mother it took two nurses and a doctor to hold me down while they inserted the needle. I screamed and thrashed like a cat in a bathtub, but it was to no avail. My time in that doctor's office was short, but it left a lasting impression on me. The memory of that needle has continued to haunt me well into adulthood.

For example:

• I dropped out of school at CSUB because they required me to get vaccinated for Hepatitis B before I could register for my second semester.


• I hear that there are needles involved in the whole pregnancy process. Hence, no children.


• I've always wanted to work with children in Africa, but I was told I'd have to be vaccinated before I could go. So I'm still here.

As you can see, my fear of needles is sort of crippling my ability to move on with life. I realized this a while ago, but hadn't done anything about it...UNTIL TODAY. Today I decided to take a big girl pill and face my ultimate fear.

I work at a high school, and the Houchin Blood Bank bus makes regular visits here so that staff and older students can donate blood. I'm not sure why I felt the need to donate blood. Sometimes when a big decision is spontaneous, it makes it easier for me. No time to get worked up.

I filled out the questionnaire.

No, I have not had sex for money or drugs.

No, I have not had sex with any gay men.

No, I have not shared needles or used drugs for recreation.

No, I am not donating blood to receive a free AIDS test.

Next, they took my blood pressure(90/52), checked my pulse(70bpm), took my temperature(97.4), and weighed me(you wish).

I knew it was coming, and the anxiety was almost overwhelming...the finger prick to check my iron levels. I can distinctly remember passing out in Biology class in high school during the blood type lab. I pricked my finger, saw my blood, and the world went black. So when the nurse pricked my finger today, I feared the worst. It didn't hurt too much, but once the red liquid came oozing out of my finger tip, I knew I was done for. My head began to spin, and my vision clouded up. When I woke up, I was laying on the floor with my legs up. I was covered in ice packs.

"You don't have to do this.", the nurse assured me.

"I've come this far!", I protested, "Just let me spend a little time in my happy place. I can do this!"

Ten minutes later, I felt much better, albeit colder. I convinced the head nurse to let me proceed and headed nervously(free t-shirt, pizza coupon, and bag of peanuts in hand) to the donation bus.

I prayed the whole way.

"Jesus, please don't let me pass out. Jesus, please don't let the needle hurt!" Jesus was probably up in Heaven laughing at what a wuss I was being.

I boarded the bus, and met with the phlebotomist. (Yes, that is what the needle-pokey people are called.) She was very sweet and did her best not to slap me while I winced and moaned and tensed, and forgot to breathe. Throughout the whole process, she kept my arm covered with a sheet, so I didn't see a drop of my own blood.

Ten agonizing minutes later, I was done. I was one pint lighter and sporting a super-cool purple bandage on my right arm. As I sat there, sipping my tiny can of apple juice, I felt proud. I had faced my greatest fear and won. I have no immediate plans for college, pregnancy, or trips overseas, but I do have another appointment to donate in eight weeks. Slowly and surely, I'm working my way through.