My senior year of college at UAF was my sister's freshman year. Every blood drive they had we went. Our first blood drive was my first time donating. I figured I'd feel woozy afterwards, but unlike the macho man who passed out a couple of chairs down from me, I took it like a champ and was fine (and so did and was my sister). The people at the Blood Bank of Alaska have gentle hands. Donating blood never hurt, my arm barely bruised, and once a cute guy chatted with me about classic rock and how he'd take the top off of his Bronco, blast his classic rock, and cruise the streets of Anchorage. Who wouldn't give blood for that?
There's no Blood Bank of Alaska here in Georgia. This past donation was the roughest. My hand has never hurt like that. They had the blood pressure band so tight on my arm that my hand ached. The band left marks on my arm. I told the people twice that my hand was hurting, but it wasn't until later that they released some of the pressure. And, when I was done, the woman said, "I ain't gonna tell you any stories. You're gonna bruise."
She wasn't telling stories. Observez-vous.
For as bad as it looks, it really doesn't hurt. Am I going to give up on donating blood because of this? Nope. My blood can go to as many as three people.