My husband and I have been donating blood fairly regularly for several years now. I introduced him to donating when we were a shiny new couple and he was still trying to impress me, but now we kind of make a date of the whole experience – granted it’s an unorthodox date that includes bandages, medical waste containers and sacks of blood.
We always schedule appointments for Saturday because donating blood pretty much zaps all my energy for the rest of that day. We start the day off with a big breakfast and lots of water (this is a super important step for any donors, especially new donors who don’t know how their body will react). I tend to make big weekend breakfasts whether we’re donating or not, but on donation day it gets extra yummy with cheese, hash browns and all the fixings. In all honesty, donation day is really about eating, sleeping and the greatest excuse to be lazy.
After breakfast, we head to downtown Calgary to the donation centre on Seventh Avenue S.W., which is an event in itself because my husband rarely likes to leave the peace and quite of suburbia for the busy loudness of downtown Calgary.
The drive is quite possibly the worst part of the entire donor experience because my darling husband does not do well with traffic, going to new places or people in general. This part of our “date” usually includes curse words and me literally biting my tongue in an attempt to not be a backseat driver and/or scream at him.
Once we make it past the tension of the drive in, we sign into the clinic and sit in one of three waiting areas for our number to be called.
The worst part of the entire experience is now upon us, the dreaded hemoglobin test. This is where they prick your finger, squeeze it a few times and take a tiny sample to make sure your levels are acceptable to donate that day. The finger prick, in my opinion, hurts more than the actual donation.
Over the years I have learned a few things about the hemoglobin test, have them poke your non-dominant hand and don’t use your index finger. In my case, the test leaves a sore bruise that lasts for a couple of days. It’s quite surprising how often you use your index finger – something you will quickly learn if you have a painful mark on the fingertip.
After you’ve got the go-ahead to donate, you fill out a detailed questionnaire in a private booth and are sent to waiting area number two.
If you don’t want to get to the clinic only to find you cannot donate, check what prescription and over-the-counter drugs are acceptable before you go. I was once turned down because I had taken an anti-inflammatory the day before.
Next, you’re called into a tiny room where your blood pressure and temperature are taken, and you have to answer a list of uncomfortable questions about your sexual history to a complete stranger.
Finally, you’re ushered to waiting area number three until you are called to a bed.
Actually, donating doesn’t take that long. My hubby and I both have “really good flow” and are usually done in about five minutes. You have to hang out in the bed for a while to make sure you’re not lightheaded when you get up.
Once you’re released from the donor area you are ushered into the recovery area where you can get a drink and some yummy treats. It’s always a good day to donate when Cookies By George is the sponsor providing the treats.
After we’ve had our post donation snack, my husband and treat ourselves to lunch on the town. For some reason, I usually insist on going to my favourite vegetarian restaurant, but you may want to choose steak or other iron-rich foods. After lunch, I usually head for a nap while my hubby watches TV. It’s a delightfully lazy day and the cookies make it all worth it.
