5 Ways I Definitely Don't Want to Die

There’s this thing about death that bugs me. Beyond the whole you/someone/something is dead issue. It’s that you generally have no control over it. There are obvious exceptions, like sticking your head in the oven (which is cheating/losing the game of life), or sticking someone else in an oven (which isn’t polite), but overall it just sort of happens. I think I can accept that. The thing is there are particular ways that I’d really prefer not to die, thank you very much, and I worry that they will end up being my end. So I thought as a precaution, I’d make a list of the 5 ways I least want to die. I see this as a way to throw my preferences out into the universe so when my time comes, someone somewhere has it under consideration.

Way I Definitely Don’t Want to Die #5 – Slow Zombie Gnawing

Ok so I grant that zombies are technically not an issue. Right now. Reading cracked.com might give you a different view. I’m not saying I’m really worried about this happening. Just so we’re all clear.

Are you sure you don't want to try vegetarianism??

In most cases one of the scary things about zombie attack is that you have to not die and at the same time not get infected, because that’s basically a death sentence. I’m totally okay with that concept. I mean I don’t particularly want to turn into a zombie, but just a little nibble and getting infected is acceptable.

What I don’t want is to be in a situation where the zombies really get a chance to gnaw. It’s basically tantamount to being torn apart. Sooooooooo not fun.

Technically Michelle Rodriquez didn’t get slowly eaten by the mob, but it looks like a possibility, and that’s scary enough.

Way I Definitely Don’t Want to Die #4 – Insides on the Outside

You know my fear of zombie nibbling is probably actually a subset of this. But basically, I want my internal organs to stay inside my body. Injuries to those organs resulting in death are okay as long as THEY STAY INSIDE MY BODY.

You can't go wrong with Indiana Jones

I’m not big on losing body parts. Break things, they fix. Chop off a finger or pull out an eye though and I squirm (for the record, Hostel traumatized me). This gets even worse when we start talking about things that I don’t normally see. I know I have guts. I don’t need to see them dangling out my torso. Oh my god and what if they like drag in the ground and now there’s all sort of dirt and leaves and dust on my organs. I am not comfortable with this conversation.

I had a tough choice on this movie example, but I think we have to go with a classic. Please sir, don’t rip out my heart. No literally, don’t you even freaking try to rip out my heart. We will no longer be friends.

Way I Definitely Don’t Want to Die #3 – Helpless

In any of the situations listed so far, sure I might end up dying, but I’d damn well try to live first. I’d fight those zombies to the bitter end. I’d shove those intestines (and the leaves and dirt and whatever else they picked up from the ground… seriously why do we keep having this conversation) back in and try to stitch myself up. I’d make an effort.

So what terrifies me is the idea that I see death coming and can’t do anything about it.

I'd like to switch seats now.

Case in point? Anacondas: The Hunt for the Blood Orchid. One of the characters is bitten by a spider (also not ideal), paralyzed, and then chomped by an anaconda. So he’s sitting there paralyzed, he can see the anaconda in the background, and he has no way to move or communicate to the others that he is about to die. Super dislike. I mean yeah I might end up in a snake belly regardless, but for the sake of my dignity I want at least a chance to escape.

Don’t believe in giant snakes? Ok fine, let’s go with another example. There’s always Saw 3. Poor Allison Kerry has to stick her hand in acid otherwise her ribs get torn apart. Even though she completes the “challenge,” she realizes the key to her safety doesn’t work. She thought she had a chance to save herself, and instead she’s powerless. Oh how I sympathized with her for those few terrible seconds before she dies from rib ripping. No bueno.

Last of the Mohicans = not a kid's movie (but I watched it)

Way I Definitely Don’t Want to Die #2 – Trial By Fire

DO NOT LIGHT ME ON FIRE. IT LOOKS INCREDIBLY PAINFUL.

That is all.

Way I Definitely Don’t Want to Die #1 – Jaws of Death

Those that know me knew this was coming. It’s not like it’s a surprise to anyone. I am absolutely, completely, bat-shit crazy, terrified of sharks. It’s not just fear at this point. It’s a phobia. What’s the difference? Well fear is being presented with something and being afraid (so swimming, bumping into a shark, and being like AHH!). A phobia is being so terrified of something you actively avoid it at all costs even when it’s ridiculous (so not closing your eyes in the bathtub on the off chance a shark appears).

Amazingly enough I will go in the ocean, but every time I’m convinced I may die. I generally stay in the “safe” zone. I only feel moderately better about this, because there is no true safe zone. Except maybe when the water doesn’t reach my ankles. Don’t believe me? Did you know shark attacks have occurred in only 3 feet of water? Yeah, true story.

I don't how fake the shark looks, I AM AFRAID

It’s interesting that many people are afraid of sharks specifically because of movies like Jaws. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a terrifying movie. I still haven’t technically watched all of it because I normally freak out and either close my eyes or change the channel. But I’m a bit odd in that I’ve just always been afraid of sharks. Because I was already ridiculous about it, my parents refused to let me watch shark movies when I was a kid.

Whenever I’m in water – pool water, ocean water, lake water, doesn’t really matter – I just have this instinctive feeling that something is coming up from below to eat me. I can’t stop it. No amount of facts in the world can prevent this fear. Deep down in my core I am convinced I will die from shark attack, and I dread it more than anything.

In fact, I would probably rather die from any of these other scenarios than be attacked by a shark, even if I survived the shark attack. Because I am convinced that mentally I would completely shut down. The moment I am in the water with a shark will be the moment I lose the last remnants of my sanity. Even if by some miracle I could process it mentally, I think I’d just have a heart attack and die from pure terror.

Just so you know, were a “friend” to ever arrange a “harmless” prank involving sharks…. That would be the definitive end of our friendship. I would never speak their name again. They would receive the “you're dead to me” look.  Every single Mario Party game, millions of cans of pepsi, and even presents of kittens or puppies would not come even close to earning forgiveness.  

In theory, I probably won't die in any of these methods. Well, one can hope anyways. 

Happier than Dracula Volunteering at a Blood Drive

Because I'm obsessed with TVD.

My mother and I are both easily amused. We love the movie Zoolander, like all the awesome new toys for kids, and are prone to having laughing fits in public places (typically department stores for my mother, and really just about anywhere for me). I’ve always considered this a positive trait. When things aren’t great, it helps to be easily amused. Sure, awesome spring rolls, mini gummy bears, and my favorite commercial may only provide momentary happiness, but you take what you can get.

Yesterday I was just describing my favorite commercial to a friend. It’s the Geico commercial with the blood drive. And aptly enough, it reminded me that today is World Blood Donor Day, which I decided I want to talk about.

I have very complicated emotions around donating blood. I think it’s a great thing to do. While I appreciate when everyone bands together and donates after some sort of disaster leaves the banks a little low, I am mildly annoyed that more people don’t donate more often. My friend Erin talked last year about being a good citizen. Well at some point I’m going to take that a step further to just being a good person, and I think donating blood and other such things is tied to that.

Now, having just said that, I must confess I haven’t donated blood in YEARS.

I used to donate fairly regularly. I actually had two separate donor cards as I donated both at home and in a different area when I was at college. I was never as awesome as my friend Kevin and asked to donate extra amounts at once, but that’s probably to be expected as I’m tinier and certainly not the healthiest person in the world.

Donating blood for me is very similar to how some people feel about the gym. I hated the experience, but I liked feeling good about it afterwards. Oh, and how I hated the experience. It’s not just the whole “there’s-a-freaking-needle-in-your-arm-thing” (although I don’t like needles, and sometimes they wouldn’t cover it so I’d be sitting there staring at this needle poking out of my arm… ick). It took FOREVER and a half. Seriously. I’m not even talking about the lines. Sometimes I’d go with other people. We’d all be in the same place in line. We’d all make it onto the cots around the same time. They’d finish, and get to go have a snack. I’d have to sit there and watch until finally 10-20 minutes later I was done. This is not even an exaggeration. My blood apparently refused to fill the bag at a normal rate.

Luckily it’s hardly ever the same workers, so they didn’t realize the problem was me. They kept checking the bag, and the line, convinced something was broken. I just sat there and looked innocent.

I prepped for days in order to give blood. Since sometimes I had some trouble passing the anemia test, before a blood drive I’d chow down on vitamins and extra meat. I’d drink fluids out the wazoo. I made sure I had clothing that either exposed my arms or was easy to move out of the way.

Then during college I ran into my first serious issue. I was giving blood and it was actually going pretty quickly. It looked like I might even be done near normal person time. I was sitting there pretty thrilled with myself, when all of a sudden I realized I was about to pass out. I was hot, my vision was blackening, and there was a loud buzzing in my ears. I tried to alert the person and I suppose I was successful, but I couldn’t tell you what I said because everything seemed to slow and my words were incomprehensible.

A bit later, I woke up. Sure enough I had passed out. Not afterwards, mind you. Not walking over to the snack station. Nope, lying there in the midst of giving blood I had passed out. Even better, apparently I hadn’t woken up right away. No, apparently several minutes and quite a lot of cold water was involved before they could get me conscious. My person was totally freaked out. They basically told me they couldn’t use my blood to donate but instead would use it for testing purposes, because something had to be wrong with me.

It’s unclear what exactly the first issue was. After this experience I felt horrible for a few days. I almost passed out again every time I had to go to one of my classes on the 4^th floor. I slept like mad. I didn’t really feel like myself again until about a month later, and eventually the decision was I had some sort of virus.

So a few months later I tried giving blood again.

Now since we had decided I was sick for the last fiasco, I was mildly nervous but not too bad. My blood was going slow as usual which seemed like a good sign. Then wouldn’t you know it, I started getting dizzy, losing vision, and became crazy hot. Luckily this time my person was able to spin me around and start holding cold cloths to my face before I actually passed out. It was a close thing. And again, this was during the donation process, not afterwards. This time there was a new fun problem as well. As I started to feel better, they realized no new blood was going into the bag. Apparently my blood clotted in the tube or something and they couldn’t get anymore out.

I decided to give it one more attempt when I was back home. Granted I didn’t actually pass out, but it took somewhere between a half hour and forty minutes before they gave up on getting a full bag of blood out of me, and I could barely walk for the rest of the day.

Sooooo…… I’m kinda nervous to try again.

It’s been years since these experiences, and we all know I’m much healthier now! I’m eating somewhat better, and I jazzercise more than a sane person probably should. Considering I’m 0+ (for those not in the know, people with 0- are more awesome than me, but I out-awesome everyone else) I feel like it’s my duty to try again. But to be safe I probably shouldn’t drive myself there, and being me, I don’t really want to ask someone else to drive me either.

You can see why I have unresolved issues over this. I want to donate, but I don’t want to be half-dead because of it. I want to encourage people to donate since it’s World Blood Donor Day, but that seems hypocritical. Maybe I’ll celebrate by just watching my favorite commercial again. Every time it finally reveals the vampire volunteer I just cackle. Ahh… good times.