We are thrilled to share another piece from one of our writers who submitted to the annual WGI Invite to Write Challenge!
This year, we asked our talented cohort to create a new piece on this prompt: Write a story where the end is also the beginning.
Next, we are sharing Teresa Kosinski’s piece entitled, “Positive.” Stay tuned, as we will continue sharing the submissions into the fall!
Positive
“O + DONORS NEEDED!”
Sigh. I kick myself for checking my texts before my 400-mile drive. The guilt starts to gnaw at me. It’s the third text this month asking me to donate blood. I used to love giving up a pint—a few weeks after donating I’d receive an email telling me where my blood went. How often do you get a chance to do something that saves lives?
It’s been several months since I rolled up my sleeve. I used to be good at it. The only thing I hated about the whole experience was getting my finger pricked to check my hemoglobin level. I’m a fast bleeder, so I’d be in and out of there quickly, pausing only to down some juice and cookies and wait impatiently for the required 15 minutes to pass. But last time…
***
The donation center is pretty busy for early morning. So much for thinking I’d avoid the rush. I’d already completed the pre-donation questions in their app. After the finger prick and blood pressure check, I was good to go.
The faint scent of saline annoys me a bit as I lift myself up onto the cushioned cot while the phlebotomist, Antoine, prepares the supplies for the procedure. He disinfects my right arm and hands me a stress ball to squeeze while he looks for a vein. My veins like to hide, but he’s a pro and finds one rather quickly.
Antoine inserts a sterile needle into my vein, while I squeeze the stress ball every five seconds. My left arm remains busy scrolling on my phone. Soon, the pint bag fills up and Antoine removes the needle and hands me a cotton ball to put pressure on the insertion site to help it clot quickly.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay, I…” I try to say as the room gets darker and darker and…nothing.
“Teresa! Teresa!”
Where am I? What is going on? Is someone slapping my face?
I try to open my eyes.
“Teresa! Do you know where you are?” I don’t recognize the voice.
I think. “Blood…blood center.”
The owner of the unrecognized voice tells me that I lost consciousness for about ten seconds. I’m stunned. It felt like I’d been gone for both a decade and no time at all.
***
Not being able to grasp those missing ten seconds has haunted me for months.
I put my phone in my pocket. I check my car’s center console to make sure I have two Diet Cokes and a couple of protein bars at hand before I make the long trip from Southern California to the Bay Area. I adjust my seatbelt and double-check all the mirrors. I say a quick prayer to St. Christopher for a safe trip and press the START button.
Heading northbound on the 605, I check to my right to make sure I can move into the lane that will take me to the 5.
As I slow down to make the turn, I hear a loud bang behind me. I look in my rearview mirror in time to see the grill of a Dodge Durango just before it rearends me. The noise is horrifying. I’m peeved because this means I will probably arrive home very late.
I carefully brake while looking for a safe spot to pull over on the right, while trying not to hit the K-rail on the left. But the Durango pulls around me on the right. The driver stares at me, then quickly jolts his steering wheel to the left.
He’s trying to kill me. I try to stop the car, but the pain in my right leg is searing. I pass out.
***
I’m not in a lot of pain anymore, but I am confused. Beeping noises. People chatting. Where am I?
“Teresa? Teresa, are you with me?”
How does she know my name? Wait, I smell saline. Am I in a hospital? I hate hospitals.
“I’m Dr. Reese. You’ve been in an accident. You’re at the San Gabriel Valley Medical Center. You broke a couple of bones and needed surgery. You needed a blood transfusion. You’re going to be okay.”
Somewhere today, someone’s getting a text I hope they don’t ignore.
“O + DONORS NEEDED!”
