[quote]AngryVader wrote:
Two other times, they managed to squirt my own blood on my shirt. Like you said, friggin amateurs. [/quote]
I haven’t read this whole log yet – haven’t been on here in awhile – but I read the first couple of pages (good work on your injury rehab and good luck with it) before skipping back here for a peek. I have the dubious distinction of having rehabbed lots of injuries, so I can relate. Just commenting because I can relate to your blood donation story: I, too, never squeeze the ball. I’ve never been offered a ball to squeeze. The nurses usually make jokes about how easy my veins are to find and how quickly I fill up the bag. Last one said, “We’ve got a pumper here.”
So, a couple of years ago, there was a blood drive here at school. Went in 40 minutes or so before class – figured that’d be time enough – and the lady who got me must’ve been a total newb. If there is a part of the system that they pressurize, then she over pressurized it*. In any case, she completely fucked up the needle part. Blood didn’t just squirt onto my shirt, It geysered in an arc five feet across, over the cot, onto her uniform, onto the floor… She starts freaking out and making little screaming noises, and making vague gestures around my arm, looking like she’s trying to grab a snake without getting bitten. Two thoughts go through my head quickly. 1)“This is alarming – am I in actual danger here?” 2) “No… I’m okay. That is unless I let this useless bitch touch me again.”
I called a more experienced nurse from across the cafeteria (where the drive was being held) to help out. Actually, what I did was yell across the cafeteria, “Hey! One of you might want to take a look at this here!” A plump, gray-haired, primly efficient woman in an actual nurse’s cap strode quickly over, quickly put the needle right, gave Screamie a quick, dirty look, and said a few sharp things under her breath that – (*)something about the needle and something else about not needing pressure – that shut her up pretty quick. I finished my donation, took an extra OJ and a half dozen cookies, bid the cooing knot of nurses that had gathered around me adieu, and went to class. When I left, there was blood spattered across my cot, the breasts and belly of my attendee’s uniform, several slick feet of floor, the right side of my neck and face. There was blood in my hair, in my mouth (I remember tasting it), and in a darkening, two-inch wide band across the chest and left sleeve of my shirt.
I think they were anxious not to freak out the other donors (I’m pretty sure some girls walked out right after) and not to have me sue them or something. They kept asking if there was anything I needed or if I wanted to lie down. I must’ve been in a mildly amused shock (I was a little light-headed) – next time I’m surrounded by women asking me what I want and trying to get me horizontal I’ll know what to say. At the time, I just told them not to worry about it – that if they had a clean T-shirt I’d take that, but otherwise I had to get to class.
Considered going home, but I’d have missed class and it was an important, once-weekly seminar, so I walked in, 20 minutes late and covered in blood. I tried to take my seat quietly, but everyone stopped talking and stared. “I got in a fight on the way over here,” I said, “but I’m okay. Seriously, you should’ve seen the other guys. I mean, this is mostly their blood.” (Of course, it wouldn’t have been cool if I pretend-fought just one person.) I wanted to keep the class hanging 'til the end, but some people were getting alarmed, so I let 'em off the hook right away.
Sorry… I don’t mean to hijack – I just never heard of the “squirt” thing happening to anyone else. I thought that kind of stuff only happened in movies. It was pretty shocking at the time.
