Painting created by me
This might sound insane that I felt peace within my body when I almost entered an unconscious state.
It was on the day I had my blood donated for the very first time. In Vietnam, we have 3 options for donation: 250ml, 350ml, and 450ml. The suitable amount depends on our height as well as weight, so although I had not donated ever before, I went for 350ml since my physical measurements allowed me to. I actually did not know there were 3 options, I just followed the doctor after she checked on the numbers of my measurements. I entranced the donation room which smelt so intensely antiseptic, and the sound of machines functioning hummed on the white walls slowly. I leant my body on the stretcher, sniffing that medical scent into my lungs and dimming my eyes. I was a coward whenever speaking of needles, my sister also warned me that the blood one would be huge and sharp enough to pierce through my veins and suck blood. I stared at the cold needle prowling on my forearm before making a dash sting under my skin.
"C'mon myself, that's okay, you are donating to people in need. Imagine how happy you would be once your blood bag is used…"
Those words danced in my head and eased me bit by bit. Or was my blood dripping into the bag calmed me down? At the beginning, the stitch on my arms throbbed a little, then gradually a feeling of loss conquered my throat and chest, as if there was a void expanding inside my inner parts. I sensed the slow down of my respiration, someone put weights on my eyelids that they could not open up. I lowered my look to the blood bag not yet filled, the slight bordeaux color blurred and blended into space in front of my sight. I could barely think in the meantime, still I knew there was something strange happening. My limbs became lightest as ever, I felt like I was floating in the middle of the air and everything was so quiet, peaceful and bright outside the glasses. At that second, I thought I was experiencing the most euphoric moment I would ever have in my life, that I could have even reached the above, had it not been for my "unreasonable" energy drainage stopped my hands from lifting up. Outer space scenes crushed my really little remaining sobriety. I wondered whether I had flown beyond this earth, because of the lack of gravity in my sensation. But it was so chilling, smooth, so free and totally compulsorily feeble, to the point I was not able to remind myself of that dangerous situation. I could not fight against the power of weakness which had chained my hands and feet tightly on the stretcher.
How fascinating it was to be vulnerable in an irresistible way.
.
.
.
"Hey hey are you okay?" A familiar voice woke me up, my sister's face expressed confusion. "You are so pale!" She shouted at me.
I was startled, soon enough the unexpected invisible stone suppressed my chest and at the same time pulled me down to a suffocating heartache. Maybe I was just exaggerating, whatever, in a jiff of time, my hallucination depicted myself as an angel falling off the edge of heaven. I saw the doctor upon me worrying, he kept asking me how I was feeling but I could only whisper: It feels strange.
Two or three nurses turned to my stretcher to give me sugared drink. The main doctor interrupted the blood transferring pipe quickly and let it continue its mission after he had my confirmation about me being back to normal.
And supposed-to-be heaven slipped out of my hands just like that.
Now my peace is so unstable, like a flame flickering in the wind. Or no, it is not peace but a shell I made up for my own, and it drives me mad whenever someone takes a closer step without looking thoroughly. I am not gonna blame them anyway, it was my business to feel that by myself. The more I know about this life, the more I sympathize with the fact that no matter what, they love themselves first of all.
And I am glad that they do.