This post is not so much about the fact that I sell my plasma, and more about all the weird stuff that happens during my plasma selling experiences. Let's begin, shall we?
The first time I went to donate plasma they put a tourniquet around my biceps and told me my veins were unsuitable. They actually said that. They said, "you are being rejected for unsuitable veins." Can you say anything more rude to a woman? So they told me to drink a bunch of water and come back in a few days.
I came back three days later. One of my veins was decent enough to pass. So they pricked my finger to check my iron and protein levels. It hurt. I passed. And then I passed my blood pressure and temperature checks. But not my pulse rate. Because I was freaking out about the needle they used to prick my finger and I didn't know what to expect in general. I had to sit down for 15 minutes to see if I would calm down. I got my heart rate down 30 or 40 beats so they passed me. Then they gave me a physical and asked a bunch of weird questions, including a list of all the countries my dad had gone to while in the military and when he was there (because you're supposed to remember that stuff from when you were 3), and then they checked between my toes for needle marks from drugs. Weird people were in the waiting room, including a guy who told us he donated while high all the time. Then it was my turn in the chair. The way plasmapheresis works is they take out your blood, cycle it, take out the plasma for collection, and then return the red blood cells to your body. This happens four times. I was doing fine until the first time the red blood cells started being returned to me. Then I asked if I could have some water. They told me that while we were in the chairs we weren't allowed to have anything in our mouths. Then I said I was getting light headed. And then I started seeing spots. And my heart rate started to sky rocket. I started sweating. I almost passed out. They had to elevate my legs and fan me. It was crazy. But that convinced them that I should have my water. The rest of the day was uneventful. Except for the $50 they paid me.
The next time I went things were fine. Until the end when they pulled out the needle and I was left with a two inch bruise that lasted for two weeks. Which is a problem because...
The third time I went for a donation they checked my arms for bruises. Apparently if you have a bruise they won't stick you. So remember that only one of my veins passed initial inspection. So they called someone over to check my vein and the guy was like "I mean... it's decent..." Then they told me that there was a 50% chance of something going wrong and me not being able to donate for two months as a result of what could go wrong. The employee told me that personally she wouldn't do it, but professionally she would. So I did it. It was fine. The girl who set up the machine for me turned out to be in her first semester of nursing school at ETSU. So we talked about it for a bit. Then I asked her where she was from because she didn't have an accent. She was from Salt Lake. I yelled, "SHUT UP, I'M FROM PROVO!" and we were both the happiest people ever. We talked about Cafe Rio and Zupas and all the things we missed. I awkwardly asked her if she was Mormon (I was hoping I'd see her at YSA events) but she wasn't.
The fourth time my phlebotomist was training someone. He saw my bruise (which was still there) and apologized to me for his coworker maiming me. Things went fine again. I liked this guy (oh, Dustin). And I couldn't feel when he took the needle out because I was laughing so hard. There was a woman in the bed next to me who said (in reference to the phlebotomist she liked): "Oh, he's going to stick me, but it won't be with no needle." She was referencing his penis.
The fifth time my phlebotomist was the same girl who had to deal with my fainting episode. She was pissed about the bruise. I looked away as she inserted the needle. And then she said, "shoot. Don't look over here." I asked what was going on as she called over a coworker. She told me to keep breathing and not pass out on her. I was real freaked out. I thought she had blown my vein. Turned out she just hadn't put the needle in far enough so she hadn't gotten any blood return. Things went fine after that. Also, I got a bruise on my finger from the finger prick for iron testing.
The sixth time I got Dustin again. My bruise was gone so he did my left arm, which was supposed to be superior. He put the needle in and it burned. But I didn't want to get poked again so I pretended I was fine. While in the waiting room a girl asked me if I worked at Target. I thought she had looked familiar. This happened as I was waiting 15 minutes again to see if I could bring my pulse down. It was racing because I was nervous they would notice I was sick and not let me donate.
The last time I went I got Dustin again. Things went completely fine. The thing that was awkward happened while I was in the waiting room. I got to listen to a guy complain that he couldn't get a job because of his third DUI. And then he talked about how Mexicans were stealing all of "our" (white people) jobs, but he didn't blame them because their government sucked and they were doing what they needed to do. Then he said, "it's not the race I don't like, it's the people." Uh, what?
I'm assuming something weird will happen when I go again on Tuesday. I try to go every Tuesday and Friday afternoon. I'll keep you posted.
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