Do good, donate blood

I don’t like to brag, but … I save lives, bring relief to distraught families, assist the ill to a healthy recovery and pour out my life blood for desperate persons I have never met.
I do so much – and all I really do is donate blood.
It’s the perfect volunteer activity for a laid back person like me … who likes free oatmeal cookies and Cokes.
I show up, check off a lot of questions, sit still while they check to be sure I am healthy and lay down to make the donation. The most tedious part is the list of questions which could be summarized in a one sentence: I have not had any dreadful diseases or done any street drugs and I am still in a monogamous relationship with my husband.
The technicians never believe me. No matter how many times I meet with them, they still make me sign an oath that I am not lying about all that before they will take my vital signs and test my blood’s iron level.
Sometimes my iron is too low. When it is, they thank me for being willing to be poked for the good of others, and send me home to eat iron rich food and come back another day. One time they sent me on my way for simply I admitting I had traveled in the midst of the SARS epidemic. The guys in the white coats with the big needles did not believe all those doctors at all the airports and bus stations in SARS infected territory who had looked me over, taken my temperature and assured themselves of my enduring health before they let me board and ride public transportation. Local blood processors did not want any surprises in the blood I would share with some else.
I understood perfectly. I don’t like surprises either. So when one of my sons teased me that he had gotten a tattoo, I half believed him – until he went with me to donate blood and checked ‘no’ to the question about recent tattoos.
I like that part of donating blood – being told that I am still healthy enough to pass a bit of my ‘good health’ along to someone else. It isn’t completely easy. Sometimes the prick feels more like poke. A couple times I felt woozy afterwards. One time I was so light headed, I sat back down on the cot and promptly fainted. I came to a while later on a re-arranged cot with cold damp clothes soaking me. The next time they called to say, “it’s time to donate blood again,” I thought about it – for about two seconds before I agreed. The next couple days I loaded up with fluids and iron rich foods and sailed through with no problem.
It is ridiculous, but when I received my four gallon pin recently, I was nearly as proud as I was of my college diploma … and all I did to receive it was show up, sit still, eat healthy and let them drain off what I could afford to share. And it’s not like they never thanked me for my blood. Through the years I have received a collection of blood donor T-shirts, first-aid kits and water jugs. My son coveted my blood donor T-shirts and went to donate. The blood technicians ohhed and ahhed over his iron rich blood and talked him into making a special double whammy red blood cell donation. My daughter coveted the pin and asked for her one gallon pin the next time they called and asked her for yet another pint of her universal donor blood.
Whatever motivates us to give an hour of our time and a pint of our blood, we rest assured that the recipients reap the greatest benefits. At least that’s what I tell myself as I await the eminent phone call from the blood center asking when I want my next appointment for cookies, Cokes and a T-shirt in exchange for a bit of blood. If you aren’t on their calling list, stop in the next time you see a blood drive. Like any open house, you will be warmly welcomed – and put on the phone list for the next time.
If you get there before I do, please save me a few cookies. I like the oatmeal filled kind best.