First, and possibly last, blood donation
A friend at school altruistically organised a trip to the blood donation centre in town as we are now mostly old enough to go, so I went down this morning to donate. Apparently 6% of people who can donate do, which I thought could be seen as either high or low depending on how you looked at it. So I duly went in and had a perfectly successful blood test for iron content, and went to the table. Despite it taking a bit to get going (the donor carer stabbed the wrong place and a fountain of blood sprayed over the arm rest etc., to which I looked on bemused), I filled the unit of blood quite happily in eight minutes, below the average of ten minutes. However, it was when I sat up slowly that things started to go wrong. After feeling absolutely fine, I felt dizzy and said so, fortunately meaning that when I then fainted, someone caught me. Fainting, which has happened to me once before, is a very strange experience. I find myself thinking something through and probably thinking up some strange theory, and then suddenly it feels vaguely like I’ve just woken up from a dream or just started a dream and I have absolutely no idea where I am for several seconds; it is very strange not knowing where you are. The first thing I said was ‘did I just faint?’ as realisation dawned.
The nurse then told me that it was worth coming back, but if that were to happen again then I am not someone who should be giving blood at all, simply put. After spending what was probably an hour or so recovering in total I left for lunch out with my grandparents, but I’m still not feeling fantastic. I’m not at all used to being so unalert and not quite with it – this doesn’t happen to me, I don’t get ill! I think with regard to donating again I may well give it another go, but if there are problems then then I am helping them to create patients, not save them. Ah well, such is life.
You donated blood? You always look so pale though…
I’d feel too squeamish to even try, so well done.