10 million things in Portland: blood edition

I like Portland. Some people have never been. Visit Portland! Here are four of the ten million reasons you should. These four reasons are servings of vitamin-rich nutrients administered intravenously over the course of four weeks.



WEEK 1 (nurse: Linda)

Linda is shocked that this is my first iv ever in my life and after I explain how scared I am (very scared) she gives me bravery medication that takes 15 minutes to work. Before it starts to work I am polite-scared, my signature mixture of loud screaming interrupted by "Thanks again Linda I really appreciate this, I wish I weren't acting this way" interrupted by loud screaming again.

Linda puts the iv in and puts up with me as long as she can. The liquids going in are room temperature, and my body is 97 degrees, so it makes me feel freezing. Linda gives me orange juice to keep me from fainting and I spill the entire carton on myself.

WEEK 2 (nurse: Randi)

Randi laughs when I ask for bravery medication, and explains to me that I’m not as scared as I was the first time. Evidence of this is the fact that I don’t pass out on the spot when she asks if she can ask put the iv in the front of my forearm instead of on the inside of my elbow.

Linda makes an appearance, and tells me to tell my mom that she raised the sweetest most polite daughter she has ever met. I know this is just a nice way of telling me that I am polite, but later I tell my mom anyway. Linda also asks if I have a brother her daughter’s age. I laugh because I am polite and because laughing reminds me of not having an iv in me, and because I like Linda.

WEEK 3 (nurse: Jennifer)

The first two transfusions didn’t hurt at all but this one feels like a thumbtack or fencing sword lodged in my arm for an hour, and some of my blood spills onto the hospital napkin Jennifer put under my arm. She says my friend Erin isn't doing a good enough job of distracting me. I wish I had tried to barter for bravery medication. But I’m still only half as scared as the time before, and ten times less scared than the first time. Bravery math is a good way to distract yourself.

Between yells, I reminisce with Jennifer about how this gets easier every time.
“It’s scariest when you don’t know what to expect.” she agrees.
“Unless it’s scarier than anything you could ever imagine.” I whisper to her, and start yelling again. Politely.

WEEK 4 (nurses: Linda AND Randi)

It only takes four weeks of something you're terrified of before it's not as terrifying anymore. I laugh nervously, the way an insane person would laugh, when Linda puts the iv in, then watch Seinfeld episodes on a laptop and only feel paralyzed with fear once when my iv cord gets tangled with the headphones. My veins feel cool and refreshing, like I just drank a Coca-Cola with my soul.

"This isn't scary at all!" I tell Randi as she takes out my iv for the last time.
"...she says as she winces and squirms in her chair." says Randi, who is no Linda.

My hospital bracelet rakes in compliments faster than my heart pumps fresh blood through my body. I'm not taking it off for one million years.