I was so juiced to donate platelets today. It's long overdue - between full-time work in the pandemic, wrapping up two professional development courses, my assorted "extracurricular" professional activities, and parenting/family commitments, I've been spent. But it's pretty hard to ignore the worst blood shortage crisis in over a decade, so I felt inclined to do my part. I worked really hard to get caught up on my work so I could make it to the appointment. I even got a solo hike in this morning and was feeling good about doing something for myself before I did something for others. This was going to be great!!
I show up to the donation center, ready to go - my hemoglobin level was excellent but my blood pressure was a little lower than usual. I noticed I was feeling a little dizzy, and I was starting to realize I hadn't hydrated enough. I hoped, though, that I could push through - just like we do in the clinical sphere - see patients now, hydrate later - no way to get enough water in with the consistent masking that is necessary these days. They get me in the chair, I queue up my movie and am ready to go-- I think. But I sorta know it's not going to go well. The nurses scrutinize my veins, squeeze my arms with blood pressure cuffs, tell me to "squeeze 3 times and hold it" - tap tap tap, squint. They are not pleased. They check the other arm. They put heating packs on me to try to get the veins to pop. No dice. They didn't even bother trying to poke me - they could tell it wouldn't be successful. I was sent on my way.
DAMN. IT. I get in my car and feel the tears well up. Then, the inner voice - "Why are you being such a weirdo? You can always try another time." I guess what I was feeling was frustration and sadness that I couldn't be of help in a crisis. And some of the frustration was self-directed, because I definitely should have known better and ensured I had been drinking enough water and had adequate nutrition to participate. But we health care workers are often really bad at the whole self-care thing - it's a running sad joke in medicine. It's even more embarrassing because I am the Wellness Director for my department and try to strive to walk the walk for my colleagues.
But it's time to set the guilt to the side and see this as the lesson I apparently needed to relearn, again. You can't pour from an empty cup. It seems so obvious, yet we sure do try sometimes. And while doing all the right things for our own wellness can feel overwhelming at times, it doesn't have to be perfection. Sometimes it's just going to bed when you feel tired instead of trying to power through a few more items on the to-do list. Or keeping a bottle of water nearby to sneak swigs in when you can. Or doing a 3 minute meditation in the car before you transition from work to home. These tiny moments can be cumulative and are a powerful testament to prioritizing yourself just a little bit so you can keep doing the important work that makes your heart sing.
"Self-care is giving the world the best of you, instead of what's left of you." - Katie Reed
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