Last night, I went to give blood at the Red Cross donation center. I balked a little at the initial pinprick (a finger prick to test my blood) and the nurse sympathized. I get a pinprick every week, she told me, and I'm always scared to do it; it always hurts! My prick hurt, but not as bad as I thought it would.
When it came time to give blood, my veins looked dubious, so first they tried the left crook of my elbow. The vein "rolled" and they fished around under my skin for a while, trying to pierce the vein. It was uncomfortable, until finally, I felt a sharp pain, and suddenly an awful burning (the iodine, they speculated). Tears sprang into my eyes and, alarmed, they pulled out the needle. Did I want to try the other arm, they asked? Yes, I whimpered. I came here to give blood, so I ought to try anything to give it! I got in the other chair now, squirming and gritting my teeth and gripping my stress ball, they successfully tapped the vein in my right arm. It hurt terribly. Three different nurses checked in on me, patted my arm, brought me juice. They don't want me to be traumatized enough to stop donating.
As I sat draining, an older woman came in. She had sassy knee-high boots, her gray hair cut in a smooth bob, and a sort of manuscript which she flopped open and on which she began highlighting passages. They slipped the needle in without any response from her. (She said she'd given blood about fifty times.) The nurses good-heartedly teased me about this being the proper way to react to a needle. Well, the joke is on her. I got TWO Emeril oven gloves.
It appears very easy for someone who has been writing all her life to sit down and prick the surface without a struggle, letting the words come pouring out and juggling other responsibilities at the same time (like the sassy donor). For others, even though she writes on a regular basis, pricking the surface triggers fear and is a struggle every time (like the testing nurse), but she at least does it.
For me, sometimes I sit to write and I get that arm where I am searching for blood, but I can't get into that vein. It hurts, and I am scared to move the needle to try and find it. (Hey, at least in writing, there aren't three women in white jackets hovering over me.) But if I am tenacious enough, I will just try the other arm. Stop floundering around one topic and move on to another starting point. It will probably hurt every time, but at least I will be saving up to three lives--I mean, writing words that the world will hopefully read one day.
Give blood, make an appointment to donate!