More than you know...

Yesterday's blood drive went very well, almost routine. There was a completely different crew though. Their supervisor was a short Filipino man who Elle, our Greeter and regular there, told me was a no-nonsense, let's get the job done, kind of guy. He actually turned out to be very professional and a little more relaxed than my co-worker made him out to be. One other phlebotomist I remembered from my first blood drive. She was the grouchy one that I gave a hard time to about bringing her lunch instead of getting a subway sandwich like everyone else.

From about 10:30 to noon, the place was packed. A little busier then I had seen before. Every donor chair was taken and we sill had two people waiting for health pre-screening. As we kept track of everyone, we noticed that half of them were walk-ins and the other were people who had made appointments.

When things slowed down and I didn't have to sit with recovering donors, I either worked on my paper or chatted with the Red Cross workers. One of them, a guy about my age, he being a part-time tattoo artist, tried to talk me into getting a tattoo. I should get the Red Cross symbol tattooed somewhere as a memorial to the time with them.

Another day, another pint.

The blood drive I volunteered at today was at the same location as the last time, Pembroke Mall. It was pretty slow today and no one of note or curiosity came in except for a couple dressed in Harley Davidson apparel. For some reason I had an overwhelming feeling that I knew or had met them before. They looked so familiar. It might have been through the Navy when my ship was in the shipyards. In conversation, the husband said something about working there and when the ARC had access to the base, there would be a line out the door of donors. "Back then," he said, "you would get the rest of the day off if you gave blood." I looked at his name tag the greeter gave him but it didn't ring any bells so I didn't mention that I felt like I knew him and his wife.

The day wasn't a total loss. I did get a lot of studying done for an art history quiz coming up. And I wrote down the verbiage in the donor's handbook that specifically mentioned who should and should not give blood since this was a crucial point of argument in my english paper.

Today's blood drive was much better than my first day. Everyone was fairly warm and welcoming. My supervisor for the day was actually friendly and a wealth of knowledge. I think I reminded him of his son. In our conversations, I found out that the chapter that services the south-side of Hampton Roads wasn't established until 1949.

He also showed me their facility in Pembroke Mall that's currently being renovated. Temporarily, they're located in the former S&K Men's Warehouse which isn't a bad thing. Since they're now on the inside of the mall instead of being on the outside - back, they get more walk-ins. Again today I was the canteen volunteer. The greeter was a nice, elderly lady who was a little hard of hearing. I also found out that most of the staff are heavily overworked which might excuse the reception I received the last time I did a blood drive. All of the blood collected today - and every day for that matter, throughout the region, makes its way down to Charlotte, NC to be tested in laboratories wholly owned and operated by the American Red Cross.

Today's last two donors were a tragic story of a father and son who just lost their wife/mother two weeks ago, suddenly and mysteriously. They were there to continue doing what they did as a family - the tradition of donating blood as often as they can.

My background check came back clear, and today was my first day working as a volunteer at a blood drive. Initially, when I first walked in, it was a bit off-putting. Not because of the sight of bags of blood — no one was there yet to donate, or the smell of alcohol or iodine; but because of the cold response to my presence. At first, it was hard get someone to even tell me what I needed to do. Eventually I had enough information to know how to be both a "greeter" or a "canteen" (someone who provides juice or a snack when needed). It wasn't until my first conversation with one of the staff members that it dawned on me why everyone was being standoffish. When Raymond asked, in passing, if I was volunteering my time or doing community service it all made sense. Until then, I expected, to some degree, the same enthusiasm and professionalism or at least some appreciation for me being there as I did during the orientation class. I have a close friend who has had his scrapes with the law and now know how he feels sometimes. To be unfairly prejudged like that was a first for me. Regardless, I decided to soldier on and try to make the best of it.

Most of the day was uneventful. All but one of the donors had given blood before, so they knew the procedure and what to expect. Although it had been a while since some of them had donated, they were soon comfortably waiting for the next chair. The excitement came with the very last donor. He was a slight kid, about 18 or 19  and had never given blood before. Unfortunately, halfway through filling his unit bag of blood he passed out. The staff were quick to react to the situation and had him reclined all the way back to get his legs above his heart; standard initial procedure when treating for shock. It was a bit disturbing to see his head go limp, roll to one side and his glasses cocked at an odd angle and sliding halfway down his nose. He quickly regained consciousness as they crimped off his blood tubing and removed the needle. After a few moments they had him sit at the canteen station where I gave him orange juice and feed him snacks until he was feeling better. I felt sorry for him because I knew exactly what he was going through. During my last days in the Navy I was subjected to a litany of tests including having to give blood. The corpsman taking my blood was either not practiced or incompetent. I almost went into shock when he, first, put the tourniquet on way too tight and then stuck me several times, not being able to get more than a few drops. I remember so clearly the rush of cold and the clammy, tingly sensation on my skin and the room spinning. It took every ounce of will I had to remain concious until that feeling passed. I tried to reassure the kid that it was nothing to be embarrassed about and that it happens. He finally admitted to not having breakfast and just a snack bar and sport drink for lunch — the very opposite they tell you to do before donating blood.

As required by my English II class, I've chosen a nonprofit organization to become involved with for material and experience to write about.

Today I attended the American Red Cross orientation in Virginia Beach. Unfortunately I had to skip all my classes today because of scheduling conflicts — not that that was a big deal. Apparently, according to another student in the class, our art history professor confused us with another class and showed a movie instead of lecturing — sweet.

The orientation was fairly brief and informative but left me with more questions than answers. I have some idea of what I'm getting myself into but wish I could work in areas I'm actually interested in. I'll expand on that later. We are now waiting for the results of my background check. I hope they don't find out about the dead bodies under the house.