It better save a life

1
Because I have now re-introduced red meat into my diet after at least 12 years of shunning the stuff I thought the iron levels in my blood would be up. I was sure that the next time I went to donate blood I wouldn’t be sent home after the prick test reveals my blood floats rather than sinks. So yesterday, having just flown back to Durban after pitching a tv series in Johannesburg, I decided to pop into the clinic to offer them a pint of the best. Perhaps I was feeling a little run down. Perhaps I should have taken the hint after my blood was rejected so many times...

2
My finger is pricked and a drop of vampire food is sucked up into a hollow tube then dripped into a liquid filled beaker. Will it float? Will it sink? Even the blood seems unsure. Tentatively it rises. That’s it I think- if they don’t want my blood now then it just isn’t meant to be. But no. The male nurse conducts a more accurate test which reveals that my iron levels are .8 above the minimum iron level count. They will take my blood. This is fine, I think. This is what I’ve wanted. My blood is healthy and might save another’s life.

3
The needle slides into my vein. I sip on the sweet juice they’ve given me in a polystyrene cup as the bag becomes bloated with my blood. After ten or so minutes the bag is full. I feel fine. They remove the needle.

4
“Wake up, you’ve had a nice sleep, wake up now”. A blur of people standing around me. Why am I being told to wake up by strangers. Where am I. In what kind of place would they play such terrible music. I close my eyes. “Don’t sleep again, you must keep your eyes open” someone I recognize tells me. It’s the male nurse. Another nurse named Anna is wiping my face and arms with a cool cloth. I’m wet all over. Literally. Anna tells me that one’s muscles contract when one faints, including the bladder. I’m not even embarrassed. I’m breathing into a brown paper bag. I’m being told to wiggle my fingers and toes. I’m eventually able to walk to the bathroom where I vomit and cry and wish I was home.

5
2 hours after walking into the clinic I’m finally walking out. Slowly. Weakly. Relieved Robbie has come to my rescue. I thank the nurses for being so caring but say they probably won’t be seeing me ever again.