Giving Blood

I have just come back from giving blood. If you have given blood before, none of this will be new – and you might want to stop reading now.

But if you have never given blood, it maybe worth reading.

I had never given blood before. Always meant to, a good intention, but never really got round to it. Too many other things, and, well, two or three years ago (23 actually) I was told not to give blood ‘for a couple of years’ – because I had had jaundice following a bad case of glandular fever. And, well, you can never be too careful can you?

But, as part of the Church of England (http://twitter.com/c_of_e) Love Life Live Lent campaign, one of the days actions was to do something like, give blood (March 27th). So, before I could worry too much about it, or come up with all the ‘valid’ reasons why it was not for me (remember, that jaundice 23 years ago, maybe my blood is not good enough) I booked.

And today was the session.

To be honest, I have been getting pretty nervy about it. I am not good with blood or needles, and I was pretty terrified when I left the house. To delay arriving, I got my hair cut and popped into Café Nero where I asked for an extra shot in my cappuccino.
So at 1.15 I turned up at the church hall. I don’t know what I expected, but the hall full of people all lying down already giving blood came somewhat as a surprise. And every few minutes, somebody else arrived.
I checked in, answered more questions and was given a rather large glass of water which I thought I would never drink, but had emptied by the time I was taken to have my blood tested. At every stage, part of me was hoping they would say ‘No thank you Mr Surridge’, but another part of me was dreading them saying no. How would I feel if I left without giving blood. But I seemed to pass the tests and before I knew I was being taken to me own bed and asked which arm I wanted to use.

Blimey, I had not thought about that. Maybe it was written down in the instructions, but I could not remember. I plumped for my left arm thinking, if anything went wrong, I would cope better without that one (that really was my reasoning). But I immediately knew it was the right answer because as I lay down, straight in front of me was the cross – my focus for the next few minutes.

More cheerful nurses (blood donor supervisors) took blood pressure and then found a vein to use (hold on, aren’t they important?). And then Richard (my blood donor supervisor) was talking away – I was terrified and wondering what was going to happen, waiting for some awful pain and a draining sensation. Surely my arm will go limp, or light weight as all that blood drains out of it? But he said ‘About six more minutes’. What – they were already taking my blood – when did that happen?

I was left alone (well, as alone as you can be in a hall full of people) and pondered on the cross. This monumental step for me seemed so insignificant. I relaxed. I wondered whether anybody ever fell asleep whilst giving blood. A rather unfortunate track came on the radio (Animals - We've got to get out of this place) but it only sought to make me smile. And then that was it. I was being told to sit up, having a plaster put on and taken for a cup of tea.

No passing out, no feeling feint. And whilst I was drinking my tea and eating my biscuit (three bourbons actually), I was booked in for my next session in 13 weeks time.

Only 5 per cent of the adult population give blood. Now I am one of that five per cent, and feeling slightly pleased with myself. With God’s help, and some prompting, I have overcome one fear of mine, and done something good. And I might need my blood back at some point – I am looking on it as a potential deposit of blood – maybe I will need it back in the future.

Find out more at www.blood.co.uk