Wednesday 10 February 2010

Blood


Blood donation vans in a cobbled courtyard. A tentative opening of the door, this is my first time. I never used to be squeamish, "Where's Wally?" books did a fabulous job of taking the childhood mind off proceedings during vaccinations. Today the stomach flips a little, I still haven't forgotten fainting when blood was taken from my sister prior to her operation last summer, the swimming vision, the distant feeling. Still, I have been drinking water all morning to help the blood flow quicker, and have resolved to justnotlook. I pass the questionnaire, a drop of my blood sinks slowly through the blue solution indicating high enough haemoglobin levels. I lie on the plastic covered bed. They try unsuccessfully for a vein in my left arm, before moving to the right. I'm hooked up to the bag, and taped up, though I'm still not looking so am not quite clear on this. I stare out of the window whilst I clench and unclench my fist; blue sky, bare trees, a cloud that looks like a lion. I try not to focus on the strange sensation in my right arm. Not painful, just unknown. Try to remember to breathe, not let the swimming sensation creep up on me as it did last summer. And then, 3 minutes in, my blood stops flowing. Not entirely, but it slows down enough that it is not time efficient for them to keep me there, other donors are waiting. They unhook me. Well you managed about a third. Small veins they say, next time drink lots of water. I did I reply, lots. Must just be tiny veins then.

I know it can still be used, but a third of a pint just seems pathetic somehow. I drink my orange squash thoughtfully. I'll try again, but can't help wondering if I'm better suited to encouraging others to donate, strapping youths with bulging arms and prominent veins, then cooking them up an iron-rich dinner, emerald spinach, slabs of steak, to show my support.

7 comments:

  1. I hope you still got the biscuits and a cup of tea. You've earned it just by going :)

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  2. Glad to know someone else finds the whole giving blood process a bit 'weird'. I apparently have 'slow' blood - I take comfort in this meaning that I would bleed to death slowly (and therefore might be able to be saved should such a thing happen!) – but this does mean that other people come in and are done before I've even filled the damn thing! A third of a pint is still good I say!

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  3. A third of a pint will be more than enough to make a difference to somebody's life. I used to donate milk to the local hospital and thought 1oz was not worth giving but the nurses said that much would feed a premature baby for a whole day. Quantity required is wildly different for everybody so well done you. You have made a difference.

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  4. Oh you're so brave. It's 1/3 of a pint more than me! Good luck for next time x

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  5. Oh well done on the effort! I'm a terrible fainter. No idea why, I just start melting away half way through it. Oh god, just thinking about it is making me queasy. xx

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  6. well done for trying though. I used to give blood quite a lot but it's not so easy where I work- they don't seem to come to soho often! I apparently have very tough veins to access so always got pricked about a thousand times but the blood then seemed to flow again. I should really try and take time and go or something.

    My Grandma has a rare blood type and was still giving in her 80s though they really took care of her and she went to Hospital specially every few months and then less as she was older. It's an amazing thing to do- makes you feel great about yourself.

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  7. im sure your 'small veins' did what they could! its fantastic that you gave anything, really wish i was able to give blood, its one of the last selfless acts.

    x.

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