Now, I am very pro-blood donation. It's a good thing to do for someone at no cost to you except for the tiniest discomfort, and then you get juice and biscuits afterwards. I feel it's a no brainer really. Everyone should be doing it.
Yesterday however, on my second donation, I incurred a life long ban.
The first time I donated was fine. It was quite fascinating and I practically skipped away and to work after my chocolate digestive. It never occurred to me that this time all might not go so smoothly. I'll talk you through my day.
So I arrived, handed in all my paperwork (I declare that I'm fit, healthy and don't have sex for money); and sat down with the information pack and giant cup of water they make you drink before. The leaflet tells you to do 'exercises' whilst the blood is given: cross and uncross your legs; squeeze your leg muscles for 5 seconds then relax (not difficult: after all that water I really need the loo by now); clench and unclench your fist to keep the blood flowing.
Then you get called for questions and the nurse stabs you in the finger, without warning, to test your iron levels. That is the most painful part.
And then it was time for me to actually give blood. All went fine except that my arm got kind of tired after all the fist clenching. And then it was all over. The nurse popped a plaster on my arm and sat me up slowly and left me to put pressure on the wound while he turned to check someone else.
And then nothing.
When I woke up I had two thoughts:
1. Why are they all trying to wake me up? I'm sleepy. And...
2. Oh no...I don't need the toilet anymore.
And then I tried to close my eyes again and was firmly told that was not allowed and I had to stay awake. I'd been out for long enough for both me to stop breathing briefly and them to call the ambulance.
"This is the end for you now," boss-nurse told me, "you can never give donate again."
Bugger. Now I'll have to give money to charity or something.
And then I had one guy bringing me lemon juice, a lady wiping my face, someone else fanning me and asking for a dignity pack over here please.
At this point I didn't know what a dignity pack was but having ruined the very elegant outfit I had come in, I was really keen to find out. Yes, bring me one dignity pack. Stat.
Turns out it was clean and giant clothes, including some of those blue trousers they wear in Scrubs. They are not getting those bad boys back. They are beauts, and mine now.
And then the ambulance men sat me in a chair, strapped me in and whisked me away. My parting thought was that I hoped there were no newbie donors in the room. What a horrible thing to have to see before you first time. At least I didn't see it all, being either unconscious or semi-unconscious for the whole debacle.
And then I had to wait around at hospital for two hours, with only sick people for company. Yuck. By the time I was seen, my only symptoms were minimal light-headedness and feeling sorry for myself.
However I had an EPG(?) (that thing where they stick stickers all over you with wires attached to them, which was quite interesting) and a chat with the nurse. It was a good job she was nice or I wouldn't have forgiven her for chuckling at my reason for being there. "Such a lightweight."
Well, at least I gave a full pint before becoming a wimp. It would have been an entirely wasted day otherwise.
And then I got the bus home. The end.
But this will never happen to you. It shouldn't even have happened to me. I was fine the first time. And sure I've been banned, but I'll give it a couple of years, put on some weight and go again. And I will be like Robin Hood...doing something I'm not allowed for the good of mankind. Hurrah for me!
And you should go because while I'm out, they are a donor down so they'll need you to step up and give instead. And you. And you.
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