Little pricks

Having been inspired by Alice Pyne (see previous blogs here and here) I signed up to the bone marrow registry a week ago. The requirement for my age group required that I do it via the blood donation route. No problem, this is something which has sat on my to do list for many, many years, particularly when I discovered whilst pregnant with my 7 year old that I was “special”. It seems my blood is quite rare (like the rest of me I hear you cry) and it can be used on any blood patient regardless of blood type; ideal in an emergency before "cross match" has happened.

 

My blood donation appointment arrived a couple of days ago; it appears the vampires were due to visit our local town today and so I agreed to a hot date with a needle. So off I went with a spring in my step ready to do my thing smiling inanely at the receptionist... only to be told I had already registered 5 years ago at an old address but never turned up. At this point my face reddened and I felt the need to give the most over embellished story to justify my actions. To be honest some feeble excuse such as the dog ate my registration letter would have actually been more believable.

 

Whilst waiting for the nurse to call me I sat people watching (ie being nosey) and checking out the competition other donors. What surprised me most was that I was one of the youngest, and believe me that happens less and less these days. I would estimate the average age must have been fifty something whereas I had been expecting the room to be full of other harassed working parents doing their bit. But if I am a classic example of my age group maybe that explains the empty seats and missed appointments. Darn dogs eating those registration letters!

Anyway I was called after only a few minutes and given a form to read about how to keep blood pressure high during the extraction process (squeezing your butt checks and then relaxing them) I swear at this point the old chap next to me gave me a wink as he clenched his rear! Next thing I am hearing the immortal words "little prick" and my middle finger was attacked and squeezed in order to test my iron levels. A couple of "hmmms" later and another middle finger prick. Another "hmmm" was followed by the nurse informing me that she would need to take another blood sample, this time from my arm, in order to establish a more accurate reading of my iron levels. In short, normal, non-anaemic blood has a minimum iron reading of 115. In order to donate blood the exact reading must be 125 or more. In simple terms it appears that this allows for 10 units to be removed and not compromise the existing iron supplies of the donor by taking them below normal levels.

1 minute later I had a plaster on and was offered a cuppa tea. REJECTED! My reading was close by not close enough: 124! I have rebooked for three months’ time and have been given instructions to eat lots of dark chocolate and drink red wine... apparently both are good for increasing iron. Silver linings and all that!