Ounces of my blood flowed and filled the bag. Drained through a needle sticking in my arm.
I donated my blood.
The event was voluntary, yet some were prodded by the ‘peers’ and some were lured by the ‘likes’. Each had their purpose.
The act remained Noble.
We started by filling some preliminary forms. We entered our Name, Age, Address, etc. We ticked a few ‘Yeses’ and a few ‘Nos’. Then our blood was tested to certify the fitness of the body – fit enough to donate the life saving drops of blood. The donor’s willingness was obtained in writing.
The willingness of mind was the bigger criteria.
The medical professional who was supervising the noble act explained the process and the possible minor side effects. Lightheadedness and the slight pain to remind you of the prick of the needle. He forgot to mention the feeling of goodness that would fill you amply.
Other side effects were a ‘minor’ price to pay.
In his enthusiasm, he also explained the science behind it. The blood, he explained, was split into three components – Red Blood Cells, Platelets and Plasma. Blood group decides the usage. Since mine was AB+, I was told I was a universal recipient. However, AB+ could donate only to AB+ recipients. That made me feel a bit selfish at the marrow level. However, I was assured that my plasma was considered the Universal Plasma, because it contained neither anti-A nor Anti-B antibodies. That made me feel useful. He also informed, that recently they received a casualty who had lost 10 unit of blood. His blood group was AB+.
I felt relieved. My trip to the blood donation camp was now blessed with a divine purpose.
I glowed within
He went on to explain that the blood collection process takes about 8-10 minutes, from the time the needle pierces the vein. Around 350-450 mL of blood is collected in a pouch. The human body we were told, replaces the plasma volume lost during donation within about 24–48 hours, while red blood cells are replenished over the following weeks.
The needle pierced my skin and entered the vein. It metaphorically – like nail on the cross – caused pain, that triggered the goodness. And the blood flowed out. Ready to save life.
I was given a yellow coloured ‘smiley’ stress ball. I was expected to press it to pump blood into the waiting pouch. Each press caused a mild pain as blood coursed through the needle. It was therapeutic. It smiled back at me, every time I squeezed it. It knew what it was meant to do.
And it taught me what was mine too.
It was over and the needle was pulled out. The tiny hole was covered by a cotton swab, which was quickly filled by the efficient clotting system.
I was proud of my body and myself too. I realised they were two distinct entities. One felt the pain, the other experienced bliss.
After resting for a while, we enjoyed light refreshments, quietly and contemplatively.
While we were leaving I asked the nurse, if I can carry with me the yellow Smiley Ball. It had stayed with me as a silent companion.
The nurse said with a knowing smile, “Why do you need the smiley ball, carry the smile”.
It was said casually perhaps, but it had a profound effect.
I was smiling when I left the blood donation camp.
My Tales Within 