Blood. And stones.

This afternoon, I gave blood. I was prompted by a report on the radio yesterday about how they only have three days supply of blood in Scotland. I have given blood for several years (I got a badge last time, a kind of long service award; I felt like telling them not to bother – getting a badge wasn’t going to make me more or less likely to give blood).

I always feel very virtuous when I give blood – it is probably the only truly selfless act I do (although, since I end up feeling virtuous, it isn’t completely selfless, is it).

Thing is, I don’t really like the sight of blood. Especially my own: worming its way through the translucent tubes.

It ends up in a little pack: a pint of blood, to go. That always makes me think of Angel and Buffy and Spike…

They didn’t seem too busy, though the nurse said they had been over the past couple of days: all the publicity had brought people out, though it wasn’t really publicity they needed – it was more people. The blood only lasts thirty five days – though I guess it will be used up in a week or so – and you can’t give blood for another three months. After the spurt of publicity has died down, they will be back to three days supply again, and those people that gave as a result of the news on the radio can’t give blood again until March.

He said that only 7% of the population give blood; if 30% did, there would be no shortages, and they would only need people to give blood once a year – whereas they practically got me to promise to go back in March.

It is funny lying there, blood draining from my arm. There is a bit in Andrea Levy’s book, Small Island, which describes giving blood during the London blitz: rather than PTFE tubing, sterile needles, disinfectant, they used steel tubes, reused needles. I find giving blood uncomfortable (apparently I have small veins) – the idea of solid, rather than flexible, tubes – well, it hurts just to think of it.

The nurse seemed quite pleased to have someone to talk to: he told me about how he grows his own vegetables and fruit – he is growing an apple tree from seed just now.

Blood. And stones.

This afternoon, I gave blood. I was prompted by a report on the radio yesterday about how they only have three days supply of blood in Scotland. I have given blood for several years (I got a badge last time, a kind of long service award; I felt like telling them not to bother – getting a badge wasn’t going to make me more or less likely to give blood).

I always feel very virtuous when I give blood – it is probably the only truly selfless act I do (although, since I end up feeling virtuous, it isn’t completely selfless, is it).

Thing is, I don’t really like the sight of blood. Especially my own: worming its way through the translucent tubes.

It ends up in a little pack: a pint of blood, to go. That always makes me think of Angel and Buffy and Spike…

They didn’t seem too busy, though the nurse said they had been over the past couple of days: all the publicity had brought people out, though it wasn’t really publicity they needed – it was more people. The blood only lasts thirty five days – though I guess it will be used up in a week or so – and you can’t give blood for another three months. After the spurt of publicity has died down, they will be back to three days supply again, and those people that gave as a result of the news on the radio can’t give blood again until March.

He said that only 7% of the population give blood; if 30% did, there would be no shortages, and they would only need people to give blood once a year – whereas they practically got me to promise to go back in March.

It is funny lying there, blood draining from my arm. There is a bit in Andrea Levy’s book, Small Island, which describes giving blood during the London blitz: rather than PTFE tubing, sterile needles, disinfectant, they used steel tubes, reused needles. I find giving blood uncomfortable (apparently I have small veins) – the idea of solid, rather than flexible, tubes – well, it hurts just to think of it.

The nurse seemed quite pleased to have someone to talk to: he told me about how he grows his own vegetables and fruit – he is growing an apple tree from seed just now.