Bloodbath

Today I thought I'd give the gift of life. I was all psyched about walking around campus with one of those brightly colored stretchy bandages on my elbow, the red or turquoise trumpeting the fact that I was brave enough to give blood. So, after lunch, I followed the very conspicuous "Please Donate Blood" signs straight to the Student Union Building.

Knowing that any small distraction could potentially dissuade me from the treacherous task at hand, I worked quickly. As soon as I got there, I raced through that 80 question "personal habits" survey so fast I didn't have time to blush. I signed in. A gray-haired nurse called me in and rubbed alcohol on my finger, then pricked me with the tiny needle, and I didn't even cry.

I was shaking a bit as I watched plastic bags across the room swell up with dark red blood. That friendly little nurse was about to drain 1/6 of my blood supply into a plastic baggy and throw it on ice to truck it somewhere far away. What if she took too much? Or I fainted? Or she hit an artery rather than a vein and I was spurting blood all over the room until I eventually bled to death, a tragic martyr facedown on the grimy SUB floor, at the young, young age of 18?

Gulp. At this point, anything could happen.

I didn't show the little nurse my internal torment. I resisted requesting that she tell my mom and dad I loved them. I swallowed as she fiddled around with antiseptics and checklists and band-aids. And I prepared to stand (and quite possibly meet my maker).

When, to my astonsishment, little nurse lady pulls out the finger-prick blood sample.

"Your iron level is at 11.2. I'm sorry, it needs to be 12.5 to donate. Maybe next time."

And my heart sunk. Just like that, my life-giving, blood-spilling, demi-hero days were over. There was no colorful bandage, no baggie of blood, and no dramatic martyrdom to speak of. I left the sub with nothing but a band aid on my fingertip. Thanks to a stupid, neglible trace element most commonly found in plumbing and bathroom fixtures.

So tonight, dismayed and disillusioned, I scoured the cafe for red meat and loaded up my salad with disproportionate amounts of spinach in hopes to someday make that cut.

It didn't happen today. But I promised myself that someday, somehow, I will give the gift of life and wear that colored bandage around school like a badge of honor.

Until then, you can find me in the cafe. I'm the one with all the spinach.