My dad used to give blood way back in the old days before aids, mad cow, email and color TV. He probably enjoyed all the attention of the nurses in their traditional uniform, he had a blood doonor book and was given a stamp after each donation while he enjoyed free biscuits and a cup of tea. Eventually he'd given enough blood to be awarded some kind of medal, I remember he was rather proud of himself that day.
As a young boy it was impossible for me to understand why he'd want to volunteer to have someone stick a needle in his arm. Of course we're not talking about the ultra thin needles of today but great big things that we now use as turkey basters at Thanksgiving.
In my long life I've been very fortunate to have been injected or as they say in the USA had a shot only a few times in my life. In fact it's easy for me to remember the early inoculations I had to endure, I'm certain that I'm not alone in my appreciation for the inventor of the vaccinations that you could take with a sugar cube.
Most of my needle experiences have been at the dentist where some kind of numbing drug has been injected. It was only very recently that I had the experience of having an IV line installed on the inside of my elbow.
When I was having issues with a tumor on my jaw I had my first IV line installed at the hospital and it proved to be very difficult for the nurses to find a vein. I'm not the type of guy that has veins popping out all over my body, only now and then do I see the blood circulating around. Interestingly it's always blue blood but sadly I've never enjoyed the privileges of being a member of the British Royal Family. Throughout my life I've had to book all my tickets using Ticketmaster or the equivalent and we "commoners" know how fair that process is, by the time I get to search for a seat the royal box is always full of chinless wonders.
I walked into the hospital with my super brave mask on, I really don't know where it came from but I figured that I was too old to scream and cry at the sight of a hypodermic needle. That was me 105 years ago, these days I'm as strong as any other athlete in their prime.
In the end one nurse tried three times and the other twice before the doctor decided that they'd give me some gas and stick me when I was under. At the time I was more than happy with that decision, if it wasn't for the distraction of some attractive nurses walking around I could have been a lot of pain. Of course the nurses outfits of yesteryear and Halloween are way more uplifting but every now and then you can find a stunning rear view of a female in scrubs. Perhaps that's a very sexist remark but I'm still a hot blooded male ;-)
Later in the process when the tumor was removed from my jaw and I needed implants to replace the teeth that had been extracted by the hospital surgeon. My local dentist couldn't place any implants in my upper jaw because my sinus's were too low and so I had to endure two surgical procedures to lift my left and right sinuses, fortunately my dentist put me under while this was going on.
The most amazing thing was that the dentist and later his nursing assistant were able to stick an IV in my arm at the first attempt, this was most impressive compared to the staff at the "world famous" teaching hospital. Once the sinuses were lifted and secured in place I returned several months later and the dentist installed my implants, this involved taking my blood and using a centrifuge that would separate some elements from my royal blood that they injected around the implant to promote growth. Science is amazing who discovered this process and what made them think it was a good idea? What do they do in Iran where all of their centrifuges are used for producing nuclear material for domestic use only?
When wife number 23 was receiving treatment for her cancer the doctors tested her blood weekly, it was an interesting marker for how she was doing. In the first couple of weeks she'd had a port fitted in chest so that they could infuse dangerous drug cocktails directly into a major artery and avoid burning her veins.
On a couple of occasions her blood white cell count was way too low and several pints of blood were infused into her increasingly frail body. Receiving blood from another person is a very difficult thing, there's a lot of cross checking and paperwork involved because of the dangers of receiving the wrong blood type. Each time my wife's blood was cross matched and a wrist band fitted that could not be removed before 48 hours had passed after the treatment was done.
After just a few weeks of her treatment I'd become accustomed to the environment of the infusion suit but we had to go to another facility to receive blood and once again there was lots and lots of patients being given what I hope were life saving chemicals. This suite was busier and more cramped but each "station" had an airplane like TV entertainment system available which proved to be very helpful trying to pass the time, receiving blood is a long and drawn out process with a bunch of potential risks.
Even though I wasn't the person with cancer I was living on my nerves, assisting a person with a serious illness is a very stressful thing to do. It seemed to me that the person who is ill concentrates on the treatments, the pain and staying alive. They are often "out of it" due to the chemicals involved in the treatment. but the care giver is on a roller coaster of emotions, looking for signs of improvement, dreaming of a full recovery and return to our normal life but also dropping like a stone at the first sign of an issue, a simple cough or clearing of the throat sends the carer into thinking that another "worst case scenario" was starting.
Wife 23 sits in the chair and the lines are set up ready for the blood, it arrives chilled and is allowed to get up to room temperature so that the patient doesn't get too cold. The blood is kept in thick plastic bags, clearly labeled and burgundy red, perhaps just like a good claret and certainly just as good for you.
As I watched the blood drip into my wife I couldn't help but wonder if the donor had any idea about the wonderful gift he'd given to a complete stranger, I hoped that they'd be happy to in the knowledge that wife "23a" was being given a tonic beyond compare and perhaps the spark that was needed towards a complete recovery. Blood really is the nectar of life, along with organs it's the ultimate gift to give!
It was the strangest moment for me, each drip would ignite a different thought in my mind, of course I knew that we need blood to live but to watch something so precious drip into my wife was so moving for me. Once again I felt selfish and disappointed in myself for not giving blood but then again thanks to my dad our family had blood in the bank so to speak.Over here in the USA I can't donate blood because of the risk of mad cow disease, what a wonderful excuse that has been for my non-social behavior!
The process of receiving blood takes a long, long time and is constantly monitored, temperature changes and reactions of any kind are evaluated at regular intervals. Before every infusion of blood we'd struggled to get from the parking lot to the infusion suite, we actually used one of the hospital wheelchairs but after the 8 hours of treatment my revitalized wife was able to walk out of the offices on her own two feet.
Blood is simply amazing!
That's my reality,
Jobsonian
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