The Notorious Naysayer strikes again!

Arm with needle inserted for blood donationDuring breaks from my intrusive thoughts–what should I bake for my cancerversary celebration with Dr. Blood next week?–I am diligently completing phase #2 of my volunteer applications. I have to; I’m accountable to all of you, my faithful followers.

I don’t remember real job applications being nearly as hard as these. I’ve had no end of multiple-page forms to fill out as well as references to enlist. (Thank you references.) Because I’ve submitted everything on line, I have little recollection of my responses, except for my address and phone number.

In order for Jelly and me to be PALS, I need to cough up $40. If she’s accepted, my funds will cover our annual membership, but if she fails, it’s moolah down the drain. Add to that the cost of dog treats for her remedial training and the $200 spent at Dr. Animal’s yesterday, and this application process is bankrupting me.

Why the vet visit? I needed Dr. A. to complete a health assessment of Jelly. My conscience insisted I disclose Jelly’s recent physical challenges rather than simply sending her the form. Whatever Dr. A. says, I shall not be deterred. Is it a bad omen that Jelly was on her worst behaviour throughout her visit?

On to Canadian Blood Services’ on-line interview, which J. told me I probably failed based on the few answers I shared with her.  Am I the only one noticing a pattern here? Talk about raining on my parade.

I’ll admit that one question totally flummoxed me. “How would you deal with a donor with a needle phobia?” I, Annie the Psychologist, have absolutely no idea, but did I say that? Of course not.

I figured I could tell the donor: “Why the heck are you giving the gift of life if you’re needle phobic? Go help new immigrants learn to read, or cook meals for the homeless, or organize a community clean up.” Alternatively, I might say: “Put on your big-girl panties.”

How about: “I’m a psychologist. I got that one.” (Grammatically incorrect, I know, but that’s how it’s said, no?) I’ve worked with anxious clients for over 20 years, I know the drill. Just watch me masterfully guide the fearful donor through it. But my conscience rejected that answer.

I finally arrived at a solid answer, even without the internet. I’d tell the donor that it would be over lickety split, and remind her that she’s doing something that could save someone’s life. I’d distract her with bad jokes or singing or funny stories. And I’d tell her she could always look away when the needle goes in, like I do.

I could even share that I’m not fond of needles myself, however painless they usually are. Even the ones that hurt aren’t nearly as excruciating as childbirth (from what I hear) or a kick to men’s privates (from what I hear), and the pain is fleeting (unlike in those other two scenarios, from what I hear).

If all else fails, I’ll mention the scrumptious gourmet cookies that await her when she’s done. I don’t know about you, but I’d tolerate agonizing pain for a good cookie.

If I manage to pass the second cut–I’m not hopeful–interviews are next. Wish me luck. According to some, I may need it.


8 thoughts on “The Notorious Naysayer strikes again!

  1. Well, I, for one, am very impressed with your applications – whether you (and Jelly) are accepted or not. As you probably know, I have all kinds of ideas, but am usually the first one to think of all the reasons to possibly not qualify and therefore never apply. So, good for you, and I want you to get accepted in both places!!


  2. Although I can’t give blood now for 5 years………I recall the thoughts of yummy cookies at the end of the process got me through the process. So good cheerleading on your part Annie!


  3. What a timely post. Today I gave blood for the first time in 24 years. Fainting three times at the last try. Was in Vancouver and fainting on a transit bus (with a red cross pin on my lapel) and no one helped me.

    Heard there was an urgent need so I booked an appointment. I almost failed the screening and the first needle missed. After that it as easy peasy.

    And today, I donated in honour of my very brave friend Annie.


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