There's nothing like being a hero

By Christy Marsters

The Hants Journal/NovaNewsNow.com

I’ve always had this theory about blood; it’s in you to live. And it’s the entirely selfish excuse I’ve carried with me for years to ease my guilt about not giving.

It has also been my tough-faced one-liner to those who’ve asked why I never donate. However, the truth is I’ve always had a huge fear of death, dying or anything associated and this includes hospitals, funerals, blood, guts, gore and any sort of medical syringe.

I didn’t say needles. This is because I can take tattoo or piercing pricks like a champ, but the thought of an injection or withdrawal from my vein makes me so squeamish.

Just to elaborate on the power this fear has over me, I will also note the last time I was dragged to the hospital. It was for a kidney infection, and after two weeks of going to school during the day and coming home at night to bawl my eyes out from the pain of it, my Mom was finally convinced it wasn’t ‘getting better’ and forced me to go get it checked. I was 17 years old and was far less than a happy camper at the time.

So it’s possible to imagine what it was like for me when I looked at a blood donation flyer and guilt finally grabbed hold of me. I decided I was going to do it.

I walked into the blood donor clinic at the Windsor War Memorial Community Centre Sept. 2. First thing, I was asked: “What did you have to eat or drink today?”

The truth? A ham sandwich made with hot dog bun and a swig of milk from the jug. When I said a sandwich and some milk, five different nurses politely scolded me for not eating and drinking lots as recommended. Then I was treated to juice and cookies.

As I sat there, eating an oatmeal cookie and drinking apple juice, I looked up to see people lying out on stretchers with cords attached to bags of blood hanging from their arms. I felt like woofing my cookie. There was still time to make a quick getaway.

But seeing those people there was humbling also because I knew they had shown up and taken time from their day so a stranger could live.

With this thought in mind, I was able to pull through my fear and donate nearly a whole pint of blood before beginning to feel clammy and woozy. It must have been something in the way I had said, “I’m fine, just a little light-headed,” that prompted the same five nurses to rush to my aid with cold cloths. But, really, I wasn’t feeling all that bad, considering.

In fact, as I was leaving with another orange juice in hand, I was feeling pretty proud for being so brave. It’s the first time ever I’ve saved a life and there’s nothing like being a hero.