Blood Drive

Donating blood seemed important. I mean think about it. There are thousands—maybe even millions—of people everyday who need blood to live. I can’t even begin to imagine the amount of people who need blood. It also just so happens that my blood type is O negative… the universal donor. 

“Thank you for coming in, Sir, we’re always in need of more blood,” the doctor said with a cheesy grin, “What made you decide to donate?”

I thought for a moment. “I don’t really know,” I said through a weak chuckle, trying to make the mood a little less sterile. Doctors' offices always seemed sterile—I mean I guess they would have to be, germs and all. Either way I couldn’t stand them. “I guess I just felt like I should help the cause.”

“Well you definitely came to the right place. We’ll get you fixed up here in just a moment, but first we need to ask you some baseline questions,” the doctor said while grabbing a clipboard from the desk that he sat by. I nodded and waited for him to start asking. “What’s your height? “

Jeez… I can’t quite remember… if I was five eleven, six months ago that means I'm probably around—“I’d say around six foot,” I said, managing to somehow cut off my own train of thought.

“And your weight?” he asked—eyes glued to his clipboard.

“About a hundred and seventy pounds.”

“Okie dokie… Have you ever donated blood before?”

“No… I’ve only ever been stuck twice… once when I got my wisdom teeth taken out they gave me anesthesia through an IV, and the other I got blood work done during a physical.”

“Okay, you said you got blood work done?” he asked. I nodded. “Do you know your blood type?”

“Yes. I’m O negative.”

“Oh so you’re the universal donor. Now it makes sense why you wanted to donate so badly.” The doctor said through an unnerving grin. What the hell is he so happy about?

“Okay, now these next few questions might be a little… personal… but it’s important that you tell the truth, okay?” I nodded and waited again. “Have you ever been out of the country?”

“Yes. For a field trip in the eighth grade. We went to Canada."

“You like it up there?” He asked—keeping that damn grin plastered on his face.

“Yeah… it was pretty…” Why does he keep smiling like that?

“My wife’s actually from Canada… so I get to go up there a lot for family stuff.” He said proudly, “Okay, have you had any surgeries in the past six months?”

“No, sir.”

“Okay, do you have any medical conditions?”

“I had asthma when I was a kid,” I said—as if trying to offer any better answer than ‘no’.

“That’s fine. You take any medications?”

“Nope.”

“Any drugs?”

“Nope. I’m all clean from that stuff.”

“How old are you?”

I paused for a moment. “Isn’t it on your sheet sir?”

“Yes, but I wanted to see if you’d mess up. A lot of kids lie about their age so they can donate.”

“Oh…” A curveball question? Really? It’s not like I’m being interrogated here…

“Okay, are you currently sexually active?”

Great. “No…”

“Have you ever been sexually active?”

“No sir…”

“Are you a hundred percent sure?”

I laughed at this—a mix of nervousness and humor washed over me at his absurdity. “Are a lot of people not sure if they’re sexually active?”

“I just wanted to double check—STD’s and STI’s… taint the blood… we can't use it anymore… it has to be… pure…”

“Ooookay…”

“Well that’s all I needed…” He said as he got up from one of those stools that all doctors seem to have, “Are you okay? You look a little peaked.”

“Ahh… I’m fine… just a little nervous is all.” I said attempting to get the doctor to go on about his business.

“Well why would you be nervous?” He asked—leaning closer to me—now more interested than before. “We’ve got a great team here.”

“Yeah… I don’t doubt it… I’m just really scared of needles is all.”

He thought for a moment—his plastic smile and dead stare never going away—before he finally spoke, “Oh… okay, well I’ll make sure to tell the lab tech that. She’ll be in in a moment.” He said while closing the door behind him with a soft thud rather than a loud bang.

Oh thank god…

A few minutes passed of pure silence—except for the faint sound of the light buzzing which was actually getting on my nerves by this point. My hands kept sweating profusely, to the point where I had to keep drying them off on my jeans. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. All they’re gonna do is draw some blood… it’ll be fine…

And then there was a knock on the door. Why would a doctor knock on their own door? “Come in!” I yelled out with a slight shake in my voice.

“Hi! I’m Brandy. I’ll be doing your blood draw today.”

God, why is she so damn happy about this? You people are weird as can be. All I was able to do was nod and exhale a shaky breath. She put her blood drawing kit on the table and she bent over to get to eye level with me. She put her hand on my shoulder. 

“Hey, the nurse told me that you're scared of needles?” She wasn’t really asking, she was stating what the nurse said, but she said it with that little tone that makes it sound like a question.

“Yeah… ever since I was a kid,” I joked—trying to find some light of the situation. 

“Well,” she started moving her hand toward the tray that she brought in the room with her, “I have something that can help,” she grabbed a little opaque, plastic cup with a little pill in it. “This oughta help out a little bit.”

“What is it?” I said as I grabbed the little plastic cup and gawked at the tiny white pill that sat inside. 

“It is a narcotic, but don’t worry” she added the last part with an attempt at a convincing voice—a very good one at that—and raised hands swaying to the sides with every emphasized word. “All it’s gonna do is make you a little tired. It’s supposed to reduce anxiety. You don’t have  to take it if you’re uncomfortable, but you look pretty nervous.”

“What makes you think I’m so nervous?” I said in a tone that showed that I was trying to hide the fact I was nervous.

“You’re sweating bullets,” she said in a matter of factly way.

After a moment of thought I figured it was best to take it.

“Okay, I’ll come back in a few minutes to stick ya. Just gotta let the medicine run its course.” The doctor walked out of the room. I think she was smiling, but I couldn’t get a good look because her mask was covering her face just enough to where I couldn’t see anything other than the joy in her eyes. She must really enjoy her job.

The minutes ticked by and with every passing moment I grew increasingly tired. My eyes felt like they were made of steel. The chair felt oddly comfortable now. I tried and tried to fight the urge to prop my arm up on the rest and fall asleep. Eventually I succumbed to my new sense of exhaustion and I fell asleep.

Usually when you dream you see stuff—almost as if you were there yourself— but not this time. I could tell that I was dreaming but I couldn’t really place what I was dreaming about. Flashes of light and random images drowned my vision. Nothing made sense. Everything was shapeless. This wasn’t a dream—nor was it a nightmare— it was just… sleep. Pure, unadulterated sleep. 

However, they must have put me on the good stuff because waking up was like having the world's worst hangover on a roller coaster. If you thought what I was describing before was weird then you wouldn’t be able to imagine the shit that I was seeing at that moment. Everything had that weird look of being blurred together—but the kind of blur where you’re seeing double of everything—and the room started spinning. Idiotically I tried to get up. No success there. With each contraction of the muscles in my body I released a ‘Hrmph’ sound—not one that a person would usually make but I think it checks out considering I was drugged. My vision started coming back to me and I could finally start seeing some detail.

They stuck me while I was out? It was a strange thought. I don’t see why they wouldn’t stick me while I was out. Especially considering the fact that I told them I have a fear of needles. I mean wouldn’t they want to stick you when it’s most convenient for th—

What the hell was that?! It was that obnoxious sound that kids make when they’re drinking from a straw and there isn’t any more drink in their cup. Kind of like a slurp. I don’t know how else to describe the sound, but I think you get the idea. I was the only person in this room.

I started looking around—my vision now starting to return at a faster and faster rate— and it finally dawned on me that the lights were off. Only a dim red light illuminated the room. Hrmph! Dammit! I can see! Why can’t I move?

There was now an itchy feeling against my extremities whenever I pulled against the chair to try and get up. It was a strange feeling—foreign in nature but familiar in texture. It was leather. Jesus… they strapped me down?!?

The red light now seemed to be evil rather than illuminating. And then the sound came again—now with the sounds of heavy breathing.

Okay. They’ve only got my arms and legs strapped down. I can still move my head around. I began dragging my eyes across my body. The only thing I could find out of the normal was the tube sticking out of my arm. My eyes followed the length of the tube protruding from my arm. It did a little turn down toward my leg. It draped over the chair. It ran along the ground for a while before it eventually rose from the ground to connect with an empty blood bag.

It wasn’t always empty. It had that little residue on the insides leading all the way from the bottom of the bag to the top. There was blood in there. Then the sound came again—this time more pronounced. There was another tube leading from the opposite side of the bag from the first tube. It led down. SCHLURP. My eyes followed the new tube down to the ground again. I had to turn my head a significant amount now—contorting my upper body to accommodate for my head movement. The tube kept running. SCHLURP. There was that sound again. It was ferocious now. And then a drop of blood.

One single drop of blood was on the ground next to the tube. It was followed by another. Two drops turned into a small puddle. A small puddle turned into a large one. The blood—my blood— was starting to pool on the floor. Some parts of it were more greatly concentrated than others. They looked like they were being wiped up. Not to be cleaned. To be… savored. SHLURP.

The sound was louder now. Manic. Vicious. Hungry. I stared at my blood—examining it almost—as a sense of dread started to envelop me. I’m bleeding to death here. I could already feel it happening too. My head was getting lighter. My limbs were losing color—I could tell that much despite the dimly lit room. My vision was getting blurry again. I stared at this pool of blood as if I was waiting for it to tell me something important. Why does it look like it’s being scoped up? The blood was almost… drowning me now. The way the light bounced off of it. It almost looked like a painting. It was beautiful in the most deeply human way I can’t describe.

A hand. Not like my hand or yours. It was bony and gray. It looked cold. And then another hand followed. The hands were slammed onto the floor and began to violently grasp at the blood on the floor. They would remove themselves from their duties every now and then and be brought up out of my line of sight—but they would return swiftly. Only when they returned they were nearly clean looking. Not ‘squeaky clean’ like when you wash your car. More like when you lick the dust from potato chips off of your fingers. Dirty. But cleaner than before.

SCHLURP.

This is where the sound was coming from. It was coming from the hands. My eyes followed the hands. Running down the length of the arms that were attached to them. The blood was becoming more and more present. The blood ran down the length of the arms and pooled up wherever it could. Blood fell off the arms, drop by drop, and accumulated on the ground returning to that from which it came. 

The arms connected to the shoulder blades. The shoulder blades continued being gray, but now they looked slimy and wet. It wasn’t the kind of gray that a bruise is. It’s the kind of gray that would belong to something that’s never seen the light of day. The shoulder blades had massive points on them with scars underneath them that ran down the sides of the thing. They looked like they were fresh—still healing. As I looked down the things back I noticed it’s elbows—something I didn’t notice on my first look at the things arms—were also pointed. Every damn joint on this thing was pointed. Ready to kill. 

It was hunched over. And it was drinking my blood. It kept scooping handfuls upon handfuls of blood from the ground and into its mouth—funneling it like it craved it… no… lusted after it. My head was pounding from a mixture of the blood loss and the realization that something was drinking my blood like how a leech feeds—no rage, no mercy, just obedience to its own hunger.

I began retching lightly. I tried to cover my mouth so I didn’t but my hand was still strapped down. I managed to keep my composure, but not without alerting the thing. It stopped. Its hands still had blood cupped in them. It slowly moved its hands apart and the blood began weeping onto the floor. It slowly stood up. Its frame much larger than I assumed. It had to tilt its head ninety degrees to the left and hunch over a little bit to stand in this room. 

It began slowly turning to face me. From the very instant it did I could see its bright, glowing red eyes. This wasn’t any creature. This was evil itself. It craned over me. It’s mouth had crimson stained all over. A little dribble of stringy blood—probabbly a mixture of blood and saliva—hung from it’s lower lip. My head began going light. I was going out again.

It started towards me. Slowly and methodically taking every step as if it knew that I was scared. With every step it took the room began to spin that much more. Bones began cracking in its body. Flesh began tearing. I couldn’t see it. I could hear it. Skin and bone began protruding from its back. Wings. With one final step it lifted it’s hands. It posed as a messiah would. Its arms outstretched. It looked up at the ceiling and let out a screech. The screech alone was enough to put any man out of his misery. I didn’t have such luck.

I woke up. The restraints were gone. The lights were on. The thing was gone. I sat up in the chair and looked down at my arms. They still lacked a certain amount of color that was expected, but the tube was gone. A knock at the door caused me to snap my head up. The doctor came in. “Hey! How you holdin’ up?”

How am I holding up?!?!? “I’m fine… I just had a weird nightmare is all.”

“Yeah I bet. The nurse said that you were talking in your sleep. Either way. How do you feel about donating blood?”

I had to think for a moment. “It feels nice. I’m glad I could help out.” I moved my legs over the ledge of the chair and tried to stand, but I couldn’t. The doctor rushed over to me and helped me sit back down.

“Easy there buddy. You’re gonna be a little dizzy for a while. I actually brought something to help with that,” he said as he reached over to his table and grabbed a sugar cookie.

“A cookie?” I asked incredulously.

“Yup. The sugar will help with the dizziness,” he handed the cookie to me with an expectant look.

I took it and began eating it. The sugar was already helping. I looked at him and said, “Thank you, I’m actually really hungry.”

He laughed and smiled how doctors usually do—only this laugh was… different. It had a tinge of evil in it. He looked at me—his eyes burning a hole into my soul and he said, “Yeah, you did great kid. Yesterday's donor didn’t make it half as long as you did with him.”