Someone a little nicer

The Big Bleed October 12, 2009

This was my third attempt to give blood.

The first time I tried was in the early ’90s when there were more stories about HIV/AIDS than the X-factor in the papers and no enthusiasm for donors whose blood had ever darkened the Dark Continent.

By the end of the 90s the mention of Africa no longer sent the NHS screaming into a corner and my 10-year conviction for having been there was allowed to drop off my donor licence. Sadly, one glimpse into the lecture theatre where prostrate bodies lay hooked up to lines and bags bulging with the red stuff, like a field hospital from the Crimea, and the blood drained right out of me. My second attempt ended with smelling salts, which was pretty much par for the course. I’m someone who passed out so regularly during school biology lessons they banned me from sitting on those wooden lab stools and installed a beanbag so I didn’t have so far to fall.

The spirit was willing but the flesh was oh, so ridiculously squeamish.

blood banking on friends

Then came an email from a friend still reeling from the news that her father, young, fit and 11,000 miles away in Australia, had been admitted to hospital with minor chest pains and rapidly transfered by helicopter to a special unit for a quintuple heart by-pass. Pre-empting all the ‘if-there-is-anything-I-can-do’ responses her message ended with the following appeal:

“Please give blood. It’s largely painless, you get a mars bar at the end and you could literally be saving someone’s life. It’s particularly healthy for your own heart as it’s meant to lower your iron count, and an excess iron count can lead to heart disease. It’s also a complete credit crunch donation – costs you nothing, yet you get the warm buzz of being able to contribute positively to the social fabric.”

It was time to test that third time lucky saying…

personal services

I’m going to pass over the details of the paperwork to be completed in advance. Not that it was long or complicated or anything. Just a tad, shall we say, personal (in the sense shops use the term to mean anything concerned with matters below the waist and above the visible panty line).

And to note in passing that Africa is now SO last decade. It’s South America, indelibly linked with Swine Flu thanks to this year’s media obssession, that now sets alarm bells ringing at the Blood Donor clinic  – or  ’the bleed’ as I heard the staff rather unnervingly refer to it among themselves.

I was shown first to a row of chairs and asked to have a big drink and read the small print. Unfortunately, my appointment letter hadn’t mentioned it helps speed the bleed – and recovery – if you drink copious amounts of water ahead of donating. Thanks to a Starbucks voucher in that day’s Guardian my blood was almost pure Americano (presumably making it a pefect match for any sick journalists).

Next I was led behind a screen so a nurse could check my paperwork. It wasn’t entirely in order: in my haste to demonstrate what a healthy, clean-living type I now am I’d answered the men’s questions as well as the women’s.

The nurse looked up at me just a little sternly: “You did read these statements before ticking them didn’t you?”

more in the same vein

A small sample of blood taken for testing, then another nurse brought me to one of a half dozen beds set out in a circle in the middle of the room. It all looked quite convivial – more campfire than circled wagons – and once a third nurse and I had established that I am squeamish and might be there to give blood but best not to mention it or let me see anything ressembling blood, I was hooked up to one of the machines, good to go.

It was all pretty painless, took less than 10 minutes, and though I did get my usual touch of the vapours at the end it was nothing three more cups of water couldn’t put right. Which is pretty amazing considering what brilliant stuff blood is.

Among the things I learned are:

• that the NHS gets great value from each donation because the blood breaks down into red cells, platelets and plasma which are all vital for treating certain conditions
• that 53% of all donations go to help people being treated for cancer, leukaemia, sickle cell disease and similar conditions; it never occurred to me before, when I’ve been wanting to support friends and relatives with cancer, that becoming a blood donor is a fantastic way of giving active support
• and that only 5 percent of those who can give blood do so.

local heroes

In the months I’ve been experimenting with acts of kindness this was one of the best experience I’ve had. Of course it helped that the lovely staff got all excited to be bleeding a ‘first-timer’ and made a point of thanking and congratulating me at every stage along the way. (A Mars Bar afterwards would have helped even more but perhaps it’s only the Aussies who know what comfort there is in chocolate; in austere Britain it’s Rich Tea all round.)

But sugar rushes aside,  the 40 minutes  I spent at a community centre in Newport Pagnell were an embodiment of what this blog is all about: anonymous acts of giving, where what is in my heart, my intention,  counts for more than how much I spend or what, if any, thanks or reward I get. 

Three months ago a friend was found to have pancreatic cancer – one of the cancers that causes people to speak in an even more hushed tone than usual. The good news was the doctors decided it was worth operating on and after eight long hours under the surgeon’s knife he’s sufficiently recovered to enjoy whipping up his shirt to show off the pyramid-shaped scar cutting his chest in half.

 The fact that he’s in a position to turn my stomach at all is down to a dozen people who gave up their time to attend a bleed.

I’ll never know how and where and who my small donation will help. But what I do know is that I won’t have to feel quite the same degree of helplessness next time I hear of a friend’s cancer, pass the shocking evidence of an accident as I whizz up the motorway, or switch on the news to more tales of distress and disaster.

Perhaps it’s time to wear the badge of a bleeding heart liberal with pride?

links

National Blood Service  Do It!

And while we’re at: organ donation at The Wall of Life