The story of how I faint like a cartoon character every time I get my blood drawn.
Hey, are you okay?!
It happens every time during health checkup season. Just as the world starts to spin and rumble up, down, left, and right, I black out along with the sensation of the cold floor.
It wasn't that I lost consciousness, but instead, my eyelids, which felt like they had turned into lead, completely covered the world in front of me.
...
I am not good at having my blood drawn.
I first realized this as an adult when I happened to participate in a volunteer blood drive in front of the train station.
Type O blood, please help us!
The information board displayed in huge letters in front of the nearest station looked like it had been crudely made by a group of people excited about a school festival, using every marker they could find.
The flashy decorative text was outlined with green and light blue markers around thick black lines. It stood out even from a distance, and I was also taken aback by the large bus waiting ominously behind the sign.
(Can even my blood be of any use?)
At the time, I was deeply embroiled in trouble, and my self-esteem was crawling at the bottom of the earth. I wanted to be useful to someone. However, that wasn't happening, I had been disowned by my friends, and I couldn't exactly say I had a place to belong, but I was instantly drawn to the mobile blood donation center that had suddenly appeared before my eyes.
While catching sight of the Yakult offered as a token of appreciation out of the corner of my eye, I made up my mind and joined the waiting line.
(I should be able to give away at least some blood. If it helps someone...)
I received a simple medical questionnaire from an uncle who seemed to be a crew member, and filled it out with an incredibly short pen that usually comes in a set with a clipboard. My mental state was weak, but unfortunately, there was nothing particularly wrong with my body.
I wrote down on the form that I had passed the health checkup without any issues.
...
The line moved forward, and I was guided to the back of the bus, where all the windows were blocked off with white cloth.
A nurse called out to me from the other side of a long desk, and I sat down across from her. As we exchanged a few simple words, a tourniquet was wrapped around the arm I extended, and my target vein immediately began to stand out.
As the nurse began the blood draw with practiced ease, the dark red liquid began to pool inside the syringe before my eyes. For some reason, the sight felt fresh, and I stared at the syringe as if I had come to play at a bright red aquarium.
After the blood draw was finished, I was encouraged to rest in my seat for about 10 minutes while holding a small piece of gauze against the site. This was also when I was handed the Yakult. Even though it was a mass-produced product, I felt like it tasted different than usual.
Even though it was a blood donation, I had had my blood drawn several times during health checkups. While sitting, I just thought, 'Is this it?' I knew it would help someone, but I had no real sense of it.
When the time was up, I was asked, 'How are you feeling?' and the moment I replied, 'I'm fine,' and tried to stand up, that moment arrived.
I tripped over my own feet in a grand fashion.
If I had to put it into onomatopoeia, it would be 'Clang-crash!'
The sound effect is straight out of a gag, but it wasn't just a clumsy mistake; it was a genuine dizzy spell. Tension ran through the surroundings, and I was quickly carried to the cot that had been set up on the other side of the long desk. Once I was partitioned off by a curtain, the nurse kept asking me, 'Are you okay? Are you hurt?'
I was bombarded with questions like, 'Have you had anemia in the past?', 'Have you ever had low blood sugar?', and 'Are you eating properly?', but apparently it's not rare for people to feel unwell after a blood draw, so once the interrogation was over, she gave me some advice.
Don't eat or drink recklessly from now on, make sure to get enough iron. Also, in the future when getting blood drawn, 'look away from the syringe.'
That's what I was taught.
After finishing a simple vital check, I got off the bus in one piece (though slightly short on blood). The unsteadiness in my feet was gone. If anything, I think the 'mental factor' is the biggest part of it.
It wasn't like that the moment my blood was drawn, but a while after it was over, I felt the disappearance of something certain from within me. It would be a lie to say I wasn't shocked. After all, something that makes up who I am had been completely extracted. Perhaps my body or mind had some kind of rejection reaction.
I remembered something just now. When I was in elementary school, I used to feel sick every time I saw an anatomical model. That's why I hated the science room. Why would they go out of their way to install something like that? I don't understand why it's okay to have an anatomical model permanently displayed when specimens in formalin are considered unacceptable and kept in the preparation room. I wish they would keep both of them in the preparation room.
Anyway, I tried to help people by donating blood, but in the end, I was the one who ended up being taken care of. I still feel a bit uneasy, but I decided to call it a day because I learned something new.
...
Time passed, and I received a notice from the company I joined as a new graduate for a health checkup that included a blood test.
I gathered with my colleagues at a nearby health center and waited nervously for my name to be called. After completing several test items, I finally reached the blood test corner. My name was called.
I faithfully followed the advice that an unknown nurse had given me on the blood donation bus back then. I absolutely did not look at my arm, and I kept my face turned exaggeratedly to the side.
If someone had looked from the next seat, I must have looked just like 'Girl with a Pearl Earring' by Vermeer.
I was still fine while my blood was being drawn, and I had no problems when I walked back to a nearby sofa. My legs didn't stumble either.
But my thoughts just kept spinning. I hadn't looked, but 'something' had definitely been taken from me. I know it's 'blood.' But, fundamentally, blood isn't something that should be taken away like that, is it? It's something necessary for coagulation when forming a scab. Isn't that against nature? It's gone. It really disappeared, it vanished from me, my blood, oh, wait, it's blood, right? Deep inside the gauze I was told to press down on, the sensation of the needle being inserted and the sensation of it being extracted remained.
Wait, my blood, it's gone?!
And so, we return to the beginning.
From my leaning posture, I tipped forward and collapsed face-first onto the floor with a 'thud!' A small scream went up from those around me. Before my colleague next to me could even panic and call out, the blood collection staff rushed over and carried me to a bed set up behind a curtain.
In the end, it was the same situation as the blood donation bus, and I started to find it a little funny.
It seems I just can't handle it when I think about it. The questions from the nurse were the same as the ones I heard on some large bus somewhere.
I never learn, do I? But as expected of a health center bed, the comfort was several grades higher than on the bus. While being scolded a little by the blood collection staff, I decided to relax and calm my mind.
...
I was seen off by my colleagues who had finished their tests earlier, with a ratio of 50% worry and 50% teasing, and I was warned to make sure I had fully recovered before getting up.
They also gently advised me, 'From now on, let's have your blood drawn while lying on the bed from the start.' (Wait, that was an option...? You should have told me sooner...) I felt a little sulky inside.
Ever since the second fainting incident, I have approached blood draws with the reaction speed of a prisoner whose number has been called, saying, 'Please let me do it while lying down!'
It's still tough the moment it's drawn, but it's much better because I can just close my eyes and get through it slowly on the bed. I have to thank the lady at the health center.
...
I am absolutely terrible at the act of having blood extracted.
I feel dizzy at the distortion of it being extracted in a way that shouldn't naturally happen.
For example, even if I scrape my knee and bleed a lot, I don't feel this sick. Even if I see the messy skin, I just wince, but the discomfort of having blood drawn hits my heart many times harder.
Come to think of it, mosquitoes do this to me all the time, don't they...
But they leave behind only the trace of the bite, as if to say, 'Heh, sorry, I took some blood, so I'll leave this part a little swollen.' Even if it's a bit annoying, it's after the fact, so I don't mind it that much. It's a small amount, and after all, mosquitoes need it to live. I get it.
Ah, but I hate blood draws.
'I'm going to draw it,' 'I'm drawing it now,' 'It's finished,' 'Keep pressing the gauze.'
It's very tough to have it declared at every step of the process that 'your blood is about to disappear.'
If possible, couldn't they come to draw it while I'm fast asleep in my own bed at home? Like a mosquito at night, they could sneak up and suck it out. Instead of a swollen bump on my skin, they could apply gauze to the area and write a message on it with a marker.
'I have taken your blood. We will forward it to the health center later.'
Am I Lupin? 'Why should I have to go that far for one patient!' If I were a nurse, I would protest vehemently. Haha. Yeah, that's not happening.
Just anticipating my next physical exam makes my stomach churn.
I suppose this is unavoidable for the sake of early disease detection, isn't it...?
Every time I pass out, I can't help but dream that a blood-specialist Lupin might come to my rescue. I hate getting my blood drawn!
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