Why I Donate Blood, & You Can Too

Blood Suckers and a Snoopy T-shirt  

I have hated needles since I was a little girl. Getting stuck with one has always been one of my biggest nightmares. My fear first started with an impatient nurse that scarred me for life. She had the nastiest attitude that I still remember to this day. Her tone and attitude probably scared me more than getting poked with a needle, but that day, I associated needles with her unprofessional attitude toward me as a 6-year-old child. That day, I left the doctor’s office shaking in fear and crying like I had never cried before after getting stuck with a needle four times, two in each arm. Over the years, my fear of needles subsided, but never left me.

Last year, the American Red Cross came to school and presented, during the fall, about the importance of donating blood. I was moved by the presentation, but I did not donate. If having a syringe poke me for a few seconds caused a visceral reaction, I could not imagine the scene I would have if a needle sucked blood out of me for longer than a minute. Over winter break, my TikTok social media page became flooded with Snoopy t-shirts people had received after donating blood to the American Red Cross. I developed an obsession over that t-shirt and was determined to get my hands on one at all cost. The next time the school held a blood drive with the American Red Cross, I knew I would be the first to sign up and conquer my fear of needles if I wanted that t-shirt. 

The anticipated blood drive with the Red Cross finally arrived after what seemed like years since I wanted that Snoopy t-shirt desperately. I had no hesitation when it was time to sign up to volunteer and donate. I had been preparing ahead of time so my donation would go smoothly and so that I would not get rejected as a donor. I had been drinking lots of water and eating  my daily meals, which is an alien concept to dorm students and even stranger to me. I did all of this so I would be able to donate, but thoughts of the possibility that they could still reject me due to my low iron lingered in the back of my head. 

As the days turned into hours, which turned into minutes, all the waiting I had done and was now doing in the cold, metal chairs of the Church multipurpose room turned the excitement I had been gathering for months into nervousness. I watched the students before me get poked with the sterile needle I had been afraid of since I was a little girl. Seeing the blood get drawn out of their arms felt like I was seeing life drain out of them little by little. The students lay on the all too familiar hospital beds like humans turning into cold, dull zombies as the Red Cross drained 16 ounces of blood out of them. 

Before I became their next victim they told me I needed to answer a questionnaire, which I had no problem doing if it delayed the gruesome needle poking of my arm. The anticipated test I had been preparing for so long had finally arrived. As the lady pricked and squeezed my finger to test my hemoglobin levels, my mind flooded with thoughts, hoping it would come back too low for them to draw blood out of me. I have always been a person that perseveres through stressful situations no matter how drained I might be at the end of them, the current situation was no different. If my levels were good, I was determined to make it through the needle poking and worse, the waiting I had to do for it to end. To my dreaded fortune, I was right above the qualifying number for them to be able to suck the life out of me. 

“Honey, come this way to this bed, please,” the kind Red Cross attendant said.  I followed her directions at a snail’s pace and with a nervous smile.  “ How long have you been doing this?” I awkwardly asked her as I adjusted my body in the uncomfortable, cold bed. “I was trained around two years ago for a few months and have done this on hundreds of people,” she replied. Her answer reassured me and calmed the nerves I was having trouble hiding. I eventually caved and told her I was extremely nervous at the thought of a needle stuck to me for longer than a second. She gave me a tip that changed my life. She told me that what helped some of her other patients was looking away before the initial injection of the needle so they would not see the syringe coming toward them. I took her advice as I squeezed tightly on the red squishy ball she had told me to hold on to. I contorted my neck to distance myself from the needle. All I felt was a pinch that initially caused my body to tense up, but then the pain was gone, and relaxation came to my body again. 

After all this time, it was not a needle that I was afraid of, but seeing something poke me and it hurting, terrified me. Donating blood through the Red Cross is an experience that I will remember forever. It helped me overcome my fear of needles and made my temporary nervousness and anxiety worth it because I was saving lives. Sometimes overcoming your fears can change your perspective on things in life, the plus is that I got a cool Snoopy t-shirt too. 

Author: Haley Hernandez-Padilla , Class of 2024