That's the Canada Blood Services (CBS) great tagline. I do so love double-meaning. But I'm not just commenting on their clever marketing today.  No, I want to tell you why I was there this week to make a donation. And why you should go too.   

When I grew up, my father was a regular blood donor. He didn't make a big deal about it, just went off to give a pint from time to time, as one of the many things he did to help society function - religiously pay his taxes, get involved in community groups, vote, and so on.  He'd joke about going only for the cookies and juice but I knew there was more to it.  When, in his 70s, he was denied the opportunity to give because of his escalating blood pressure, he was annoyed, declaring he should be able to judge the risk on his own accord. I suspect by that time, he'd given several hundred times. 

I've never had an issue having vaccinations but the removal of stuff from me, well, that's always grossed me out: the weak feeling in the knees, the slight dizziness and nausea, the sweating followed by the chill, and sometimes, a fainting spell. On days when they held blood donor clinics in the lobby of City Hall (where I worked for seven years), I used other exits to avoid seeing what seemed to me an entirely disgusting and intensely personal event - people lying on stretchers with bags of the red stuff hanging from their arms. I was not, in this regard, my father's daughter.   

Imagine, therefore, my horror and terror when 10 years ago I was diagnosed with hemochromatosis.*  This is a genetic disorder, most common among people of Celtic descent.  It results in an inability to process iron. Iron deposits remain in the blood, leading to high ferritin levels and ultimately, if not treated, clogging up the major organs. So long as blood is regenerated regularly, there is no issue so it often doesn't show up in women who menstruate.   The only reliable treatment is blood letting - yup, that's right - giving blood will ensure there is a constant new supply, and keep the ferritin at safe levels. 

In my mid-40s, I stopped bleeding. (Oh gentle male readers, yes, this is likely more information than you need to know but it is, in fact, germane). A few years earlier, a sibling was diagnosed with hemochromatosis. My family doctor made a note of it, but reminded me at the time that for years, I'd had low blood iron, so I was likely not a candidate. A couple of years later, though, my ferritin had crept up.  The liver is the first organ to be damaged by ferritin so I was sent to a liver specialist.  My liver was not damaged because we caught the condition quickly. He ran the test though and confirmed I have the gene.  It's recessive so both my parents were carriers. Whether my father had hemochromatosis or was just a carrier we will never know; he died without being tested.  If he did have the condition, he inadvertently managed it through his life-long blood donations.

Upon diagnosis, I was put on an aggressive schedule of phlebotomies (blood lettings) to reduce the ferritin - several over the course of a month. These early ones were done at the hospital and, for each, I needed to take Ativan, an anti-anxiety medication. My husband had to go with me, hold my hand, distract me with amusing stories, and then take me home to bed to sleep off the drugs (I'm a pharmaceutical lightweight - even an extra strength Tylenol knocks me out).   Once the ferritin were reduced, I was prescribed 3-4 donations at the blood donor clinic annually to maintain normal levels. 

That was in late 2013.  Then the real work began.  I knew CBS was not going to pander to my anxiety each time I had an appointment, and I couldn't take a day off work every quarter for such an innocuous reason,  so I had to approach things differently.  My strategy is always to disclose everything to the staff - "I'm not here because I want to be. I'm here because I have to be. Don't talk about what you're doing. Let's talk about other things entirely. And please cover my arm with a paper towel so I can't see what's happening." I also avoid popup clinics, in favour of the established ones downtown Toronto where the chairs are comfy and the flow of traffic more controlled by appointments.  I've found a way to do this that makes me as at ease as I can.  

The CBS staff have always treated me with kindness, and have always been grateful to have me there, but now they would likely wear pink bunny ears and speak only in rhyme if I asked them. You see, we have a blood shortage right now in Canada and CBS is doing its damnedest to keep donors they have. People stopped giving during the height of the pandemic and they haven't come back. CBS reported in December having about half the inventory of blood they like to comfortably have - only 3-4 days worth. That means my donation this week has likely already been used, a sobering thought since it will be several months before I can give again.

Blood donor clinics are among the happiest places I've been. Once I saw a group of new firefighters donating together, some first-timers, others seasoned pros, all having fun. Another time, an extended family of about 15 arrived together as a show of support for a family member who was ill. This week there was a young couple donating on a date. He knew the drill and was coaching her through. Both looked delighted to be sharing the experience. Everyone - well, except me in the early days - is there because they want to do something good for humanity, not just for the snacks.  

The aftereffects are minimal - a bit of fatigue and a period of 24 hours or so when alcohol is not advised - and then you're good as new. So please, think about going;  round up your family and friends too.  It really is in you to give. You can book appointments online in Canada here. 

* for more about hemochromatosis, click here. 

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