Giving Blood

TL;DR The post-donation snacks are better.

Having said that, I am only in the UK for 6 months. I sign up to give blood the second week I'm here. I tell the intake person at the Scottish National Blood Transfusion Service, and she asks, "You are on holiday. Why are you doing this?"

Why Indeed?

I am not a particularly good person. I don't do much volunteer work. I give some money to charity, but not enough. I am selfish.

But I do one thing very well. I give blood. As much blood as I'm allowed. I am a friggin' blood-spouting vending machine. Since the age of 18, every 8 weeks I have trucked my ass down to the blood bank or blood drive and gave 'til it hurt. Sometimes literally!

I have given 24 gallons of blood in my lifetime. That is my entire blood supply (9 pints) recycled 21 times. Each gallon is 8 regular-sized donations. Supposedly each regular-sized donation helps 3 people. That means I have helped 576 people so far. Surely at least one of these people knows Kevin Bacon ... there, I have won that game.

In other words, I am really good at giving blood. When a donation worker says "your blood is flowing pretty well," I always respond, "I practiced!"

But like I said, I'm not gonna pretend I'm some altruistic hero. (If you want to think that way, I won't stop you.). I have ulterior motives for donating blood:

• The free snacks - obviously
• The replacement of old tired blood cells with new, fresh, healthy ones. Someone else can have my blood cell hand-me-downs. (You're welcome!)

By the way, I have absolutely no scientific evidence that new blood cells, manufactured from your bone marrow is any better at carrying oxygen around your body than old blood cells.

But whatever. If I have a Google Pixel 7 and the Google Pixel 8 comes out, I must have it, even though it isn't any better.

But back to my intake person's question. Why am I doing this in Scotland?

Uh, because I'm curious ... and not just about the snacks.

Is My Blood Any Good?

Well, that's the question isn't it? In a typical blood donation, you spend more time investigating this issue than doing actual bleeding. What I find interesting is the differences between the two countries.

After the "Mad Cow" scares of the 1980's and 90's, my Blood Donation questionnaires asked, "Have you lived in the UK for more than 6 months after 1980?" Answering Yes was an automatic deferral. This was mandated by the FDA. 178 people died in the UK from Mad Cow (or more accurately, the human form which is variant Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease). And it's really hard to detect this in the blood supply through standard means, so it was easier to just to ban everyone in this class. My brother Jon and my nieces Ramona and Elena were actually part of this ban, having lived in England for a time in the 1990's.

I asked my Ithaca blood donation team (with whom I'm on a first name basis) about my upcoming Scotland adventure. Would this ban me from ever donating blood again?

Not anymore. Turns out the FDA lifted the ban in 2022. They are now much better at detecting Mad Cow before it reaches the food chain. In fact, the BBC just announced they had found a case in Scotland just 10 minutes before I wrote this paragraph. They squashed it but quick.

So I make an appointment at ScotBlood. They ask me a bunch of questions on paper (in the US, you can fill this out on your mobile phone).

And, in a twist that is totally not done in the US, they ask me drink 500 ml of water, supposedly to prevent fainting.

For crying out loud, I am an American! I don't know what an ml is. Oh wait. All of my whiskey bottles are 750 ml. So just drink two thirds of a whiskey bottle. I can wrap my head around that.

They call me back and check over my answers. I feel like I'm in college again. They stop and say, "OK you checked 'yes' to 'Have I ever lived outside the UK for more than six months.' Where and how long?"

"The US. Fifty-eight years."

"Uh, OK. Then the answer is no." I start to object, but she cuts me off. "It's confusing. It should be reworded. What they mean is are you a UK citizen who has lived somewhere else for awhile."

All righty. Blood donation history questions are confusing in any language.

Other stuff that's different:

• No blood pressure or pulse check. They figure if you're blood is not circulating, they will catch it at the donation.
• Hemoglobin check no matter what. In the US the hemoglobin check is only done for Power Reds, which I'll explain in a second. My intake checker says I am the first person today to actually pass the test. People who fail get a second test done using different equipment, and they usually pass that one.
• Questions about Chem Sex. If you're saying "what's what?" you are not alone. They explain it in lurid detail, I'm sure for the post-millenials of whatever national origin. Supposedly it's taking a drug them having multiple sex partners that's supposed to be a big thrill. Trust me - the clinical definition takes any appeal out of it.
• No Power Red - Power Red is my preferred donation method in the States. You give twice as much blood, but the blood is separated into red blood cells and plasma, and the plasma is recycled back into you. It counts as two donations, and it lets you space out your donations to 16 weeks rather than 8. But there's no option for that here.
• Longer Time Between Donations - Speaking of which, you can only donate blood every 12 weeks in Scotland, as opposed to every 8 weeks in the US. That means it's much harder to get to 25 gallons. Because of the lower and upper age limits, you must stick to a very regimented schedule and never miss an appointment or get deferred.
• There are no Band Aids. - Well, that's not quite true. There are Band Aids. But here they are called plasters. You are asked, "Would you like a plaster?" When they first asked me, I thought they said "Would you like to get plastered?" to which I replied, "Hell yeah! But I thought we have to abstain for a day."

But at the end of the day, needles are needles. Blood is blood. They take mine and all is well.

But The Snacks? What About the Snacks?

At the American Red Cross, after your donation you are whisked off the donation bed and sent to what most workers call "the Canteen." Makes it sound very militaristic. One of my favorite workers back in Syracuse called it Juice and Cookie Land.

Back in the 1980's when I first started donating, cookies were always homemade. And always oh so good. If your church has Sunday brunch, then you know what I'm talking about. Someone always has to show off, flexing their baking muscles.

Then I don't know what happened, but homemade cookies were banned and replaced with Corporate Snacks. Your choices were all from one company. The longest run I can remember was Keebler, a/k/a The Cookie Mafia. I think they were even advertised themselves as The Official Cookie of the American Red Cross. They tasted official too.

Then Blood Donation Snacks took a bad turn. Someone got it in their head that healthy alternatives should be pushed, like raisins and nuts and stuff. And not good ones either. Trail mix you get from the Dollar General. Don't get me wrong, I love that stuff when I'm biking out in the middle of nowhere. But when you have just given blood, you deserve some artery-clogging, sugar-laden, full fat deliciousness!

Well my friends, you can get that in Scotland.

We are talking Oreos. Kit Kats. (There's a box of Vegan Kit Kats, like some cruel joke ... obviously no one has touched these). And the best thing of all: Tunnocks Chocolate Tea Cakes:

This is a UK thing, obviously. It's like a Moon Pie but the marshmallow center is luxuriously soft ... like a s'more but without the inconvenience of burnt fingers.

There is no canteen at ScotBlood. Instead, you are served your choice of boxed juice in your chair. Orange if you want it (strangely in America, orange is no longer an option, only cheap apple and cranberry mixed with grape, the cheapest juice on earth).

And they ask "Do you want it room temperature or cold?"

I'm thinking, "How posh is this? What next? Do I get to sniff the cork?"

And although they do not bring snacks to you, the snack bookcase is outside the door, hidden from view. They say, "Take a snack when you leave. Take two. Take 8. We don't care." There are no judgy blood donors sitting across the canteen table just waiting to rat you out.

As I load up my backpack with Tea Cakes, I am now sure.

I'm staying in Scotland.

For those UK Department of Immigration workers who are going to drag me on that plane in September, ... I apologize but you are in for the fight of your life. I've got new blood cells and a belly full of Tunnocks Tea Cakes. You don't stand a chance.