No Good Deed

My faith in humanity was restored this morning, while my ego took a hit. 

Let me explain. I’m a big believer in donating blood, if you’re eligible; so much so that I’m a card-carrying Vitalant member. It’s the lowest-hanging fruit on the tree of good deeds.  You don’t need to sort through clothes or toys, or schedule a drop off or pick up at your local food pantry. Just let them stick a needle in your arm and help save someone’s life.

Before someone interrupts to argue about a fear of needles, I say this: I imagine you’ll feel a lot less fearful of needles than of losing your life because of a blood shortage. So just suck it up and do it for future you, if you can’t muster up the courage to do it for your neighbors. 

Where was I? Oh yes, on my soapbox about blood donation. Because my blood type is O-, I’m a universal donor, so blood banks covet my veins. Additionally, my height and weight qualify me to do a power red donation, which collects a concentrated dosage that helps twice as many patients. So, yeah, I’m kind of a big deal at blood drives. 

Stick It to Me

The week leading up to my donation, I received reminder texts and emails begging me not to cancel my appointment or be a no-show. A sample:

It’s critical! Keep your appointment. 

Critical shortage! Keep your appointment today. 

I showed up five minutes early prepped and ready to get pricked. The woman who helps run the blood mobile informed me they were fully booked today and couldn’t take walk-ins, so it was great I had an appointment scheduled. Having done this quite a few times, I filled my intake form online so as to shave ten minutes off the whole process. Hook me up to a blood bag already, please and thank you. 

Victor, the nurse assigned to me, checked the iron level in my blood, took my pulse and temperature, and pulled out the blood pressure cuff. My enemy. I warned Victor it would be high – it always is in these situations. Add on top of it extra stress as of late and I knew it would be alarming if I didn’t warn him in advance. Lo and behold, as I predicted, it was high. Oh well, that’s not unusual, let’s just move on to the next step. My selfless good-deed endorphins are rearing to go!

Not So Fast

Except it was too high to donate blood, Victor informed me. We’ll try again in ten minutes. I asked what it needed to be at, as if knowing my goal would help me will my blood pressure down. I listened to a meditation course to calm me down and focused on my breathing. Like a fighter in the ring before the final round, I prepped for victory. (Disclaimer: I know nothing about boxing so this metaphor may be shaky but just go with it okay?) 

Ten minutes later, my moment of truth came. I queued up another meditation and closed my eyes. I visualized my goal, breathing in and out. The pressure around my arm tightened; my pulse vibrated against the cuff. Opening my eyes, I saw the defeat in Victor’s.

Still too high. Has this ever happened before? he asks. 

No.

I’ll need you to sign this form confirming I explained why you were declined from donating today. 

Okay. Thanks.

And that’s how I was rejected from donating blood. During a critical shortage. 

Reason to Relax

Until I couldn’t contribute, I didn’t realize how much value I put in being a regular blood donor. In my mind, it was a guaranteed win to feel good about myself during a week when I’ve felt anything but. Giving blood (double red, no less!) gave me permission to feel like a good person, one who could take it easy the rest of the day and indulge in naps and sweet treats. 

I walked home feeling dejected and like I had no reason to relax. I hadn’t earned it. The stress of my week elevated my blood pressure to a point where I became ineligible to give free blood to those who need it. Clearly, I had more work to do. 

 As soon as I entered the house, I started crying. My body failed at doing a basic good deed. Turns out this selfless act, one thing within my control, really isn’t selfless or within my control. And I had convinced myself that in order to earn rest and feel like I deserved it, I had to be depleted of two units of blood. 

Whoa. This might be an example of burnout, but I’m not a professional. 

Take It Easy

A consolation in all of this is that I’m not the only martyr in my area. The blood drive had so many volunteers sign up in advance, they had to turn away walk-ins. My one measly donation, which loomed in my mind like such a gift, had plenty of others lined up behind it to take my place. 

My self-worth spiral also inspired me to write for the first time in nearly a month, so there is always that. And okay, maybe I’ll take this as a sign I am worthy of rest and relaxation without hitting certain goals or doing good deeds. (Although because of my high blood pressure precluding me from donating, I was able to check two goals off my list this week: writing and meditating. But I’m starting to realize making these things goals might be part of my problem…)

Ultimately, I need to learn it’s okay to slow down and turn inward for the benefit of my own health, not just because I sacrificed it for others. 

I just hope I get to keep my martyr card – er, I mean my blood donor card.