Blood Drive Day
Today is the Red Cross' "Blood Drive Day" here at work. Since arriving about 15 minutes ago, I've already gotten two "Are you giving blood? Why not?" comments. I don't even bother to explain because I personally feel that those willing to question another's ability to give blood would never understand my answer.
I basically grew up in UVa Hospital's Children's Ward. From the age of 2-9 years old, I had a series of nine operations to repair a birth defect which pretty much erased my right ear. Cartilage was removed from my right uppermost rib to form an earlobe (leaving the infamous "knife fight scar") while skin from my neck and hips was grafted over top or used to form an ear canal and ear drum (which later proved useless when a CAT scan revealed that my auditory nerve was severed.) I was one of the first children to have this type of reconstructive surgery. Oddly enough, while attending UVa, I worked in the med school library and ended up giving lectures to future doctors about the importance of bed-side manner while attending children. I also learned that I had somewhat dubious fame, as slides of my operations were still in use in the Plastic Surgery department.
During my month to two month stay per operation and the biweekly follow-up visits afterwards, I would constantly be submitted to blood tests. If you saw me as a child, you'd probably think I was a heroin addict due to the tract marks on my arms, the scars of some remaining to this day. However, I was also intensely afraid of needles and fought to the teeth to avoid them at all costs, both from blood tests and IV units, which I was notorious for ripping out. Many times my mom or dad would have to help the nurses restrain me. I would then promptly faint, causing even more problems, especially with bruising. Years later, while taking Accutane at age 16, I was again required to take blood tests, five in total, and while I no longer fought tooth and nail, I only managed consciousness through one of these. To this day, even the smell of blood makes me queasy but I've learned to deal with it in a variety of ways to avoid a fainting spell. However, I do not actively pursue the use of these techniques.
So, if you care to ask why I do not give blood to the Red Cross today, this is why. People usually get the story about my sister and her frying pan, but that can be saved for another time.
I basically grew up in UVa Hospital's Children's Ward. From the age of 2-9 years old, I had a series of nine operations to repair a birth defect which pretty much erased my right ear. Cartilage was removed from my right uppermost rib to form an earlobe (leaving the infamous "knife fight scar") while skin from my neck and hips was grafted over top or used to form an ear canal and ear drum (which later proved useless when a CAT scan revealed that my auditory nerve was severed.) I was one of the first children to have this type of reconstructive surgery. Oddly enough, while attending UVa, I worked in the med school library and ended up giving lectures to future doctors about the importance of bed-side manner while attending children. I also learned that I had somewhat dubious fame, as slides of my operations were still in use in the Plastic Surgery department.
During my month to two month stay per operation and the biweekly follow-up visits afterwards, I would constantly be submitted to blood tests. If you saw me as a child, you'd probably think I was a heroin addict due to the tract marks on my arms, the scars of some remaining to this day. However, I was also intensely afraid of needles and fought to the teeth to avoid them at all costs, both from blood tests and IV units, which I was notorious for ripping out. Many times my mom or dad would have to help the nurses restrain me. I would then promptly faint, causing even more problems, especially with bruising. Years later, while taking Accutane at age 16, I was again required to take blood tests, five in total, and while I no longer fought tooth and nail, I only managed consciousness through one of these. To this day, even the smell of blood makes me queasy but I've learned to deal with it in a variety of ways to avoid a fainting spell. However, I do not actively pursue the use of these techniques.
So, if you care to ask why I do not give blood to the Red Cross today, this is why. People usually get the story about my sister and her frying pan, but that can be saved for another time.
posted by Jaded Lens at
8:11 AM
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