A few weeks ago, I donated blood for the first time at the church on the edge of campus, St. Peter and Paul. Overall, it was a very fulfilling experience, but it didn’t go exactly the way I hoped.
The actual taking of the blood wasn’t that bad. Besides a little pinch when they were testing for iron and feeling kinda weird when they were actually taking the blood, it was fine. Afterward, they gave me a bag of pretzels and some juice. I stayed at the snack table for about 15 minutes, and once I thought I had stayed long enough, I got up to leave. I had to climb a flight of stairs to get to the front of the church, which didn’t seem like that big of a deal since it wasn’t that many steps. But once I had walked down the steps and gotten to the crosswalk in front of the road, my vision started getting dark. Flashes appeared like fireworks, and my head felt really light. I stayed at the crosswalk for a few more seconds, trying to decide whether or not I could make it back to my dorm safely. But once it was pretty clear that my vision wasn’t about to get better any time soon, I made the smart decision not to cross the busy street and instead walk back into the basement. I stumbled down the stairs and walked as calmly as I could to the lady sitting at the snack table where I proceeded to mumble, “I feel a little dizzy.”
I was immediately swarmed by two doctors and four volunteers. Someone pressed an ice-pack to the back of my neck, someone else shoved a bag of cookies and an apple juice into my hands, and one of the doctors picked me up and full-on bridal-carried me to one of the beds. All the while, I was half-heartedly telling them that “All this isn’t necessary” and “I just feel a little light-headed.” But they were having none of it, and I was closely monitored for another 45 minutes before they finally allowed me to leave.
Looking back at the situation, I find myself drawing a lot of parallels between my experience with donating blood and the college experience. I know, it sounds a little far-fetched, but let me explain what I mean.
When we all first arrived at Stevens, we had an idea of what we were getting into. We knew about the heavy course load, the tons of clubs and activities offered, the threatening Freshman 15 that comes with having unlimited swipes into Pierce. But there was no way we could know exactly what we were dealing with until we were actually living it. Just like I thought I knew how I would feel after I gave blood, I didn’t know exactly how I was going to be affected. And even when I thought I was doing fine, I was actually still very weak. This is a concept that a lot of us struggle with in college. We’re constantly pushing ourselves to keep going, work harder, study longer, sleep less. But at some point, our body is going to push back. And that’s the time that we need to get ourselves some doctors and volunteers to give us ice-packs and juice — a.k.a. a good group of friends.
The best way to cope with the moments when it truly feels like you’re being completely run into the ground is to have a solid group of people behind you. Good friends will know when to give you chocolate, when to give you a hug, and when to give you space. All of these help us cope when we just want to give up and refuse to go any further. Friends can be the difference between having a difficult day and a downright impossible one.
My biggest recommendation for surviving college (and donating blood) is to know your limits and surround yourself with good people that will help you when you stumble. It’s important to push yourself during this time, but it’s also important to stay healthy. Because though college may seem like it’s literally sucking the life out of you, it doesn’t always have to.
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