Donating Blood

Embarrassed to reveal my vulnerability and afraid that I may overreact and make a commotion, my six-year-old self let out a terrified scream as the doctor pricked the sensitive pad of my index finger and my blood came into view. I felt horrified when the doctor squeezed my finger and I saw my own blood smear onto my skin. Immediately, I sensed that I would never outgrow my fear of blood. My imagination overpowered my reasoning at such a young age; my first experience with a piercing needle made me think that I could never handle blood and would always squeamishly tremble at its sight.

Although I have always wanted to help those in need, I repeatedly rejected the idea to ever donate blood during my lifetime. I convinced myself that I could never successfully make a blood donation,
that I would pass out and humiliate myself. However, throughout my adolescent years, I realized that I could not allow an embarrassing fear to stop me from saving a life. My decision to donate blood when I was sixteen years old reflects my constant desire to help people in need, a desire that overrides any selfish concerns standing in my way.

I sensed that donating blood parallels overcoming a fear itself.
Primarily, the thought of confronting such a terrifying thought seemed impossible and initiated feelings of anxiety and discomfort. However, not long after I felt the nurse prod the dreadful needle into my vein, I realized that I could follow through with the blood donation, I could follow through with staying conscious, and I could follow through with overcoming my fear. The initial needle jab, the first action that one takes to surpass his fear, is always the hardest. Nevertheless, once my blood started flowing into the donation bag, I contentedly noted my progress as I watched my fear drain from my body and into the pouch.

As a regular blood donor now, I am always reminded of my terrifying first time donating, and I feel a great sense of relief and purpose when I think of my potential to save lives through the simple act of giving blood. I can achieve one of my greatest dreams, helping people in need, by confronting a fear and not letting mental threats impede me from reaching my goal. Only by strengthening my willpower against my imagination can I truly overcome a fear and begin to achieve what I never thought
possible.

My naive, youthful confrontation with blood taught me that one unsatisfactory event can cloud one’s perception. A terrible fear of blood characterized over a decade of my life because of one poor experience. I had no idea that I was ignoring so many opportunities to help people and that I only declined them because of a childish fear. Now that I can confidently feel the needle protrude through my vein and watch my blood as the nurses collect it, I cease to think about the pain, the anxiety, and the gradual loss of my own blood. Instead I think of how grateful I am to have the ability to make a life-saving contribution to those who need a part of me to live.