The Blood Donor

 'A pint! That's very nearly an armful!' Tony Hancock's exclamation in the most famous of his 1960s half hours is undoubtedly one of the most repeated comedy lines of all time. Well, today I was to have the opportunity to utter them myself during my 11:45 am appointment at the The National Blood Service lorry in the Sainsbury's car park. 


People who give blood regularly are amongst society's unsung heroes. According to the Blood Service website, '96% of us rely on the other 4% to give blood. Please don’t leave it to someone else.' I donated a few armfuls many years ago, but not finding it a particularly enjoyable experience, to my shame did not continue. However, I must have ticked a box somewhere in the last year or so, because I recently received a letter thanking me for my interest in giving blood and inviting me to make a donation. So I made an appointment. My blood may not be quite what it was twenty five years ago, I thought to myself, but if it can help to save someone's life then I'm prepared to undergo an uncomfortable ten minutes with a needle sticking out of my arm!'


I took it easy on my two mile run first thing, did a couple of hours work and then headed off to Sainsbury's for a spot of pre-donation shopping. Finally I braced myself to enter Transylvania. To my amazement there were a minimum of 10 people inside the lorry at any one time, five NHS staff plus donors. It doesn't look big enough from the outside, and although inside a limited Tardis effect was evident, it felt very claustrophobic, which did nothing to ease the mounting apprehension I was experiencing. 


After a short wait I was talked through the formalities by the delightful Nurse in charge. I can't remember the last time I was called 'sweetheart' by a female in uniform, but it was certainly the most enjoyable part of my visit. It was now time for the preliminary pinprick to test that my red stuff was up to it.

'Just a little prick sweetheart, you won't feel a thing!'

At this point I was told that the iron level in my blood was looking a little low based on the finger sample.


'Does that mean I won't be able to give blood today?' I replied, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.


'You don't get off that easily' the Sister replied, 'we need to take a slightly bigger sample and test it on the machine'


So I moved next door to one of the 'beds' (yes, there are even two separate rooms within the Tardis), and after an unsuccessful and painful attempt to draw blood from one arm, the necessary sample was obtained from the other. I was trying desperately to relax but finding the whole experience increasingly stressful. The staff were wonderful, constantly reassuring and encouraging me. People are often quick to criticise the NHS, but it really is a fantastic organisation with dedicated, caring staff.


And guess what? My iron level did register below the necessary level for my blood to be accepted. Not drastically so and I was reassured that as I was otherwise healthy, it should not be a problem. Apparently going for a run first thing was probably not the wisest choice for starting my blood donation day, and I should try to increase the amount of iron in my diet. Just as visions started to enter my head of a new lifestyle in the manner of Monsieur Mangetout, the French entertainer famous for eating absolutely anything including a complete Cessna aeroplane, I was handed a helpful leaflet listing foods that are good sources of iron. Good news - most of them I have no problem with, although don't expect to see me eating tofu anytime soon. And more good news - I won't be invited back to give blood for at least a year! Phew!


So there it is, it's official, when it comes to giving blood I am undeniably a clot!