The plasma place is 40 or so minutes from our house, and just 10 minutes farther is one of my favorite stores. It's a resale shop that buys and sell used kids stuff. I'm so close, even though I don't feel the greatest, I still have to go check out what they have. Husband drops me off and heads over to Portillo's to score a beef and cheddar croissant. I wander around for about five minutes before I start to get light headed. Blah. I sit on the floor in the clothing aisle and look at the clothes on the bottom rack. I recover, or so I think, and stand up. Look at a few more things and then I'm light headed again. Repeat step one. I go through this process about four times when I call Husband to see where he is. He's in the parking lot. Awesome. I go out for a well earned beef & cheddar. I get in the car and look for whatever he got to drink, because I am beyond thirsty. He got chocolate cake shakes. Don't get me wrong, chocolate cake shakes are one of the most awesome inventions ever, but not when you're so thirsty you're ready to drink puddle water.
There is a K-Mart on the way home so I have him stop there for something to drink. We're both all light headed and gross through K-Mart, but on a small stroke of genius I decide that I need some Pedialyte. Back in the car I break open my oral rehydration solution and drink some down. I can almost feel my cells start to plump up again. I pass some to husband and make him drink. He isn't the biggest fan of Pedialyte and will only drink it when I make him, so I made him. Between the two of us we finished a bottle about half way through the car ride. I felt completely better. Husband felt better too, but he credits food before Pedialyte. For me it was definitely the Pedialyte.
We call my Mom to check on the three stooges, and she says they're fine. We run a few more errands, go to pick them up, and all is as it was before the 'donation.' Well, not really all. Husband has a huge bruise on his arm, needle holes in both arms, and I have a pretty nice hole in my arm too.
When you finish they take medical wrap about half an inch wide and wrap around your arm super tight so you stop bleeding. It makes it impossible to bend your arm fully, but you have to leave it on for the drive home because you don't want to start bleeding all over yourself.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Losing Our Virginity
We walk down the hallway and into the back, um, (bed)room. It's a room divided into three sections with each section having between 6 and 8 beds. Next to each bed is the plasma vampire machine. You're connected to this machine via the needle in your vein. It draws a certain amount (a pint maybe?) of blood into a little container, said container is spun, plasma separates from blood, plasma goes into collection bottle, and then your blood is returned via same needle. One entire time through that process is a cycle.
I go to my bed and pick which arm I want connecting me to the vampire machine. I go with my right, because during one of my blood draws in my last pregnancy the person trying to draw my blood spent about 15 minutes and 5 or 6 sticks trying to get a vein in my left arm. I gave her my right arm and she got it right away. Now, whenever I have blood drawn I offer up my right arm right away.
I lay down in my bed and the movable arm rest is placed under my right arm. The machine is on my left so the tube of blood runs across my body. I'm not really squeamish, but I still try not to look at it too much. I've been through two full cycles when they bring Husband back and put him in the bed next to me. I've got the container almost 2/3's full. I'm feeling fine, and glad to see Husband.
The difference between me and Husband is that my poor body has been through a lot of 'priming' for this. During my last C-section my doctor had to clean up an internal mess that the residents who did the second C-section left. I swear that she was elbow deep into my incision, and when I asked one of her students that was there how deep in me she actually was, he laughed. Pretty deep, although he did say she wasn't quite up to her elbow. I'm pretty sure that she was above where my epidural ended though. But anyway, you get the picture.
The extent of the bodily invasion that Husband has had is stitches. He has never had blood drawn or surgery or anything, well, worse than stitches. He was there for my C-Sections, but they put up a curtain so he couldn't really see anything. He isn't the greatest around blood. On a funnier note, his brother (who is a self designated ass hole) faints whenever he sees blood. He passed out when his dog got shots. We laugh every time we drive by that vet. Yeah, it's still funny every time.
Husband is connected to the machine next to me as I start my third cycle. I proudly show him all the plasma that my vampire machine has collected from me. We look at his plasma container. It has barely more than a spit of plasma. It was like the plasma vampire hocked a lugie into his plasma container. One of the techs takes a look at him and tells him that his blood is very thick. Okay. I really made sure that he was super hydrated, but whatever. We're wondering what will happen if he can't muster up enough plasma to meet his quota. We're pretty sure it means that he wont get paid. I look away from Husband for a minute to check my own container that I am proudly filling quite well, and then I look back at husband. Except I don't see Husband. I see the back of the paramedic standing next to husband and several other techs standing around him. Now I'm freaked out. I know all the Little League Mom's love him, but he's never been too magnetic to medical personal. Something must be wrong with him. The medic is asking him a series of questions about what he ate and whatever, I kinda stopped comprehending at this point, just trying to keep him conscious. His face is completely white. He has no color at all. You know the song A Whiter Shade of Pale? I never really got that song until right at that moment.
Seeing Husband in such a state, I begin to sweat. Then I get that feeling...you know the one...your body is telling you that you have two options in this moment: Puke or Pass Out. And I'm telling my body, no no no, neither. I have to stay conscious for Husband and I can't puke all over myself here in front of people. Everyone is paying attention to Husband so they don't notice my predicament right away. (They're really good at keeping an eye on people and knowing when they don't look right) I call out to a tech who starts to tell me just a minute (because she is on her way to get something for Husband) and then she sees me, pale faced and covered in sweat. I ask her if she can turn down the machine, and she does. She tells the Medic that I'm having issues too, and the medic did the most awesome thing. She gave me a long flat ice pack across my middle. Wow. That really felt better. She still dragged the garbage can over, just in case. I had a few glasses of some nasty water, and recovered pretty quick, without puking or passing out. Phew. I'm just about at the end of my third cycle. Someone asks me if I want to do my last cycle, and even though I don't, I say that I will. I was worried that I wouldn't get my full $25 if I didn't finish. Turns out, if you get sick, you still get your full amount of money. One of the techs told me this, and not to worry about, and then she took me off the vampire machine.
Back to Husband, who also has not gone into shock, and seems to be almost recovered. They have to stick him in the other arm to put his blood back in him.
We're both disconnected and sent over to the waiting area. There is a fridge with Capri Sun and peanut butter cracker sandwiches. Gross, but at this point we had been there over four hours and we were both starving. Peanut butter crackers it is then.
We knew I was going to get paid, but we weren't sure about Husband. He hadn't even contributed anything. My name is called, I go to the window to collect my $25, and then I sit back down to wait and see if they call Husband's name. They do. Phew. He gets $25 for his good try. They tell us the soonest we can come back is Tuesday. We're allowed to come back even though we both got sick. Another sigh of relief.
On a side note, apparently when you get sick it pisses off the 'regulars' because it takes the techs away from them when they get their long awaited three beeps saying their donation is complete. While Husband was in the worst part of his little ordeal one of the regulars finished, and he is yelling to the tech that he was done, repeatedly. She finally turned to him and told him that he was just going to have to wait because someone was sick, and he would want her to be taking care of him if he got sick. Douche Bag. Then the guy across from us (with his name sticker stuck on his face under his eye, like he thought he was cute) told one of the techs, with a big smile on his face, that he was sick and needed her. Douche Bag Jr. I'll have to save all of the characters there for another post though.
I go to my bed and pick which arm I want connecting me to the vampire machine. I go with my right, because during one of my blood draws in my last pregnancy the person trying to draw my blood spent about 15 minutes and 5 or 6 sticks trying to get a vein in my left arm. I gave her my right arm and she got it right away. Now, whenever I have blood drawn I offer up my right arm right away.
I lay down in my bed and the movable arm rest is placed under my right arm. The machine is on my left so the tube of blood runs across my body. I'm not really squeamish, but I still try not to look at it too much. I've been through two full cycles when they bring Husband back and put him in the bed next to me. I've got the container almost 2/3's full. I'm feeling fine, and glad to see Husband.
The difference between me and Husband is that my poor body has been through a lot of 'priming' for this. During my last C-section my doctor had to clean up an internal mess that the residents who did the second C-section left. I swear that she was elbow deep into my incision, and when I asked one of her students that was there how deep in me she actually was, he laughed. Pretty deep, although he did say she wasn't quite up to her elbow. I'm pretty sure that she was above where my epidural ended though. But anyway, you get the picture.
The extent of the bodily invasion that Husband has had is stitches. He has never had blood drawn or surgery or anything, well, worse than stitches. He was there for my C-Sections, but they put up a curtain so he couldn't really see anything. He isn't the greatest around blood. On a funnier note, his brother (who is a self designated ass hole) faints whenever he sees blood. He passed out when his dog got shots. We laugh every time we drive by that vet. Yeah, it's still funny every time.
Husband is connected to the machine next to me as I start my third cycle. I proudly show him all the plasma that my vampire machine has collected from me. We look at his plasma container. It has barely more than a spit of plasma. It was like the plasma vampire hocked a lugie into his plasma container. One of the techs takes a look at him and tells him that his blood is very thick. Okay. I really made sure that he was super hydrated, but whatever. We're wondering what will happen if he can't muster up enough plasma to meet his quota. We're pretty sure it means that he wont get paid. I look away from Husband for a minute to check my own container that I am proudly filling quite well, and then I look back at husband. Except I don't see Husband. I see the back of the paramedic standing next to husband and several other techs standing around him. Now I'm freaked out. I know all the Little League Mom's love him, but he's never been too magnetic to medical personal. Something must be wrong with him. The medic is asking him a series of questions about what he ate and whatever, I kinda stopped comprehending at this point, just trying to keep him conscious. His face is completely white. He has no color at all. You know the song A Whiter Shade of Pale? I never really got that song until right at that moment.
Seeing Husband in such a state, I begin to sweat. Then I get that feeling...you know the one...your body is telling you that you have two options in this moment: Puke or Pass Out. And I'm telling my body, no no no, neither. I have to stay conscious for Husband and I can't puke all over myself here in front of people. Everyone is paying attention to Husband so they don't notice my predicament right away. (They're really good at keeping an eye on people and knowing when they don't look right) I call out to a tech who starts to tell me just a minute (because she is on her way to get something for Husband) and then she sees me, pale faced and covered in sweat. I ask her if she can turn down the machine, and she does. She tells the Medic that I'm having issues too, and the medic did the most awesome thing. She gave me a long flat ice pack across my middle. Wow. That really felt better. She still dragged the garbage can over, just in case. I had a few glasses of some nasty water, and recovered pretty quick, without puking or passing out. Phew. I'm just about at the end of my third cycle. Someone asks me if I want to do my last cycle, and even though I don't, I say that I will. I was worried that I wouldn't get my full $25 if I didn't finish. Turns out, if you get sick, you still get your full amount of money. One of the techs told me this, and not to worry about, and then she took me off the vampire machine.
Back to Husband, who also has not gone into shock, and seems to be almost recovered. They have to stick him in the other arm to put his blood back in him.
We're both disconnected and sent over to the waiting area. There is a fridge with Capri Sun and peanut butter cracker sandwiches. Gross, but at this point we had been there over four hours and we were both starving. Peanut butter crackers it is then.
We knew I was going to get paid, but we weren't sure about Husband. He hadn't even contributed anything. My name is called, I go to the window to collect my $25, and then I sit back down to wait and see if they call Husband's name. They do. Phew. He gets $25 for his good try. They tell us the soonest we can come back is Tuesday. We're allowed to come back even though we both got sick. Another sigh of relief.
On a side note, apparently when you get sick it pisses off the 'regulars' because it takes the techs away from them when they get their long awaited three beeps saying their donation is complete. While Husband was in the worst part of his little ordeal one of the regulars finished, and he is yelling to the tech that he was done, repeatedly. She finally turned to him and told him that he was just going to have to wait because someone was sick, and he would want her to be taking care of him if he got sick. Douche Bag. Then the guy across from us (with his name sticker stuck on his face under his eye, like he thought he was cute) told one of the techs, with a big smile on his face, that he was sick and needed her. Douche Bag Jr. I'll have to save all of the characters there for another post though.
How did it come to THIS?
We need money. Who doesn't these days? My husband (we aren't legally married, just, um, spiritually?) works a full time job for decent pay and I stay at home to take care of our three kids. About two years ago the company Husband works for fell on some hard times when the economy took a crap on all of us, and he ended up having to take a 10% pay cut. It sucks, but we were both just grateful that he still had a job after two rounds of lay-offs. Right before that pay cut we found out we were expecting out third child, and since two car seats and a 9 year old boy were not going to fit in the back seat of my Saturn, we decided to buy a mini-van. So the order of operations went like this: Oops! You knocked me up again! + We need a bigger vehicle - 10% of paycheck = OH SHIT
So for the last two years we have been falling deeper and deeper into debt. Yeah, we're part of the problem. Make me a bumper sticker.
I was trying to come up with ways to make legitimate money from home, and stumbled across something about donating plasma. "Donating" is kind of misleading, because you get paid. I guess you're getting paid for your time and not your actual plasma hence the 'donating' part. Call it whatever you want as long as you pay me for something.
After more research I found a donation center about 45 minutes from our house. I talked to Husband about it, and after some convincing he was in. You have to make an appointment for your first visit, so I did that right from the plasma center's website. At this point I didn't even know how much we were going to get paid or what any of the procedure was going to be like.
I asked my Mom to please babysit the three stooges and luckily she agreed. Your first appointment is expected to take around 3 or 4 hours and we did not want to have to juggle the kids back and forth around that. So we dropped the kids off at Grandma's and were on our merry little way.
So for the last two years we have been falling deeper and deeper into debt. Yeah, we're part of the problem. Make me a bumper sticker.
I was trying to come up with ways to make legitimate money from home, and stumbled across something about donating plasma. "Donating" is kind of misleading, because you get paid. I guess you're getting paid for your time and not your actual plasma hence the 'donating' part. Call it whatever you want as long as you pay me for something.
After more research I found a donation center about 45 minutes from our house. I talked to Husband about it, and after some convincing he was in. You have to make an appointment for your first visit, so I did that right from the plasma center's website. At this point I didn't even know how much we were going to get paid or what any of the procedure was going to be like.
I asked my Mom to please babysit the three stooges and luckily she agreed. Your first appointment is expected to take around 3 or 4 hours and we did not want to have to juggle the kids back and forth around that. So we dropped the kids off at Grandma's and were on our merry little way.
Foreplay
We begin our 40 or so minute trip to the plasma center. My appointment was at 11:30, and Husband's was at noon. We arrived about 11:15 so we went next door to Burger King (where you have to be buzzed into the bathroom, if that gives you any idea the sort of area we're in) and grabbed a few buck doubles. You're suppose to eat a good meal before you donate, but after getting the kids ready and loaded and over to Grandma's we didn't really have time.
We eat our burgers in the parking lot of the plasma center, and then walk through the doors at 11:25. We try to play it cool, like we've done this before. Straight up to the front desk where there are two sign in sheets, one for returning clients and one for new clients. We sign in on the new client form and follow the written request on the sheet to "Please take a Do Not Donate placard."
The Do Not Donate placard has a variety of circumstances listed, and if you have ever participated in said circumstances then you are not allowed to donate plasma. Some of these circumstances include:
If you are a male, and have had sex with another male. Nope
If you are a female, and you have had sex with a male that has had sex with another male. Hmm...not that I know of...
If you have ever taken money for sex. Does it count if you take money from your husband for sex? Hopefully not. We'll just go with no on that one too.
If you have ever used intravenous drugs. Nope there too.
Any way, you get the idea.
My name is called, and I present my government issued photo ID with current address and my social security card. I get my picture taken for my file, and two employees take me into the physical room. They check my eyes (for equal pupils), ears (blown ear drums?), nose (perforated septum), teeth (rot from meth use), spleen, blood pressure, pulse, etc. Then we document every scar, piercing, tattoo, and birthmark I have. My list takes up the entire space provided. You're also asked about health/injury history and all that good stuff. Then you get a cup (a plastic drinking cup) that you get to take from the physical room, through the lobby, into the bathroom, pee in it, find a place to balance it while you try to wash your hands without spilling your wee, pick it up and walk it back through the lobby (where everyone waits), and back into the physical room where they test your sugar levels and probably some other stuff.
Next, nope not ready to donate yet, you have to go through the regular screening process that you go through every time you donate. This only takes about ten minutes or so. You get your blood pressure taken, temp taken, your finger stuck to test your hemocrit and protein levels, and asked another series of questions. You have to bring the do not donate placard in, read one of the statements out loud, and then on the other side there are two boxes with the words YES and NO in them. The interviewer asks you the questions and you have to say and point to your answer. You're asked about the circumstances on the placard, and then you're asked another series of questions about spending time in different countries, small pox vaccines, if you have or have lived with someone that has Hepatitis, become pregnant or had a pregnancy terminated in the last six months, donated blood or lost more than a pint of blood within the last 16 weeks, donated plasma some where else in the last week, lived in various African countries, been to various European countries, and some other stuff that I can't remember. Then if you pass all of your tests and you answer all of your questions correctly you're cleared to donate. You sign your donation slip (I think saying that you are doing this voluntarily and no one is making you do it) and get your name sticker. Make sure to keep your name sticker in a safe place because that is what your trade for your payment. Almost there.
Then we left the screening room. Next, (I can't remember where it fit in on the first visit, but I think it was right here) you put your fingers under an ultraviolet light to check for UV dye from any other plasma places. They each have a finger that they put dye on. I passed the UV test, and got my own special finger dye on the correct finger. Then, blah, they weigh you. The amount of plasma you donate is based on your weight, and you have to be at least 110 pounds. Check. I think I've been at least 110 pounds since 6th grade.
Finally, you're led down a hallway to your bed.
We eat our burgers in the parking lot of the plasma center, and then walk through the doors at 11:25. We try to play it cool, like we've done this before. Straight up to the front desk where there are two sign in sheets, one for returning clients and one for new clients. We sign in on the new client form and follow the written request on the sheet to "Please take a Do Not Donate placard."
The Do Not Donate placard has a variety of circumstances listed, and if you have ever participated in said circumstances then you are not allowed to donate plasma. Some of these circumstances include:
If you are a male, and have had sex with another male. Nope
If you are a female, and you have had sex with a male that has had sex with another male. Hmm...not that I know of...
If you have ever taken money for sex. Does it count if you take money from your husband for sex? Hopefully not. We'll just go with no on that one too.
If you have ever used intravenous drugs. Nope there too.
Any way, you get the idea.
My name is called, and I present my government issued photo ID with current address and my social security card. I get my picture taken for my file, and two employees take me into the physical room. They check my eyes (for equal pupils), ears (blown ear drums?), nose (perforated septum), teeth (rot from meth use), spleen, blood pressure, pulse, etc. Then we document every scar, piercing, tattoo, and birthmark I have. My list takes up the entire space provided. You're also asked about health/injury history and all that good stuff. Then you get a cup (a plastic drinking cup) that you get to take from the physical room, through the lobby, into the bathroom, pee in it, find a place to balance it while you try to wash your hands without spilling your wee, pick it up and walk it back through the lobby (where everyone waits), and back into the physical room where they test your sugar levels and probably some other stuff.
Next, nope not ready to donate yet, you have to go through the regular screening process that you go through every time you donate. This only takes about ten minutes or so. You get your blood pressure taken, temp taken, your finger stuck to test your hemocrit and protein levels, and asked another series of questions. You have to bring the do not donate placard in, read one of the statements out loud, and then on the other side there are two boxes with the words YES and NO in them. The interviewer asks you the questions and you have to say and point to your answer. You're asked about the circumstances on the placard, and then you're asked another series of questions about spending time in different countries, small pox vaccines, if you have or have lived with someone that has Hepatitis, become pregnant or had a pregnancy terminated in the last six months, donated blood or lost more than a pint of blood within the last 16 weeks, donated plasma some where else in the last week, lived in various African countries, been to various European countries, and some other stuff that I can't remember. Then if you pass all of your tests and you answer all of your questions correctly you're cleared to donate. You sign your donation slip (I think saying that you are doing this voluntarily and no one is making you do it) and get your name sticker. Make sure to keep your name sticker in a safe place because that is what your trade for your payment. Almost there.
Then we left the screening room. Next, (I can't remember where it fit in on the first visit, but I think it was right here) you put your fingers under an ultraviolet light to check for UV dye from any other plasma places. They each have a finger that they put dye on. I passed the UV test, and got my own special finger dye on the correct finger. Then, blah, they weigh you. The amount of plasma you donate is based on your weight, and you have to be at least 110 pounds. Check. I think I've been at least 110 pounds since 6th grade.
Finally, you're led down a hallway to your bed.
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