Make a date to give blood
I'd always intended to give blood, but never quite got round to it. The inaugural National Blood Week (13-19 June 2011), when NHS Blood and Transplant (NHSBT) was encouraging 10,000 new donors to "make a date
to donate", seemed a good time to start.
The process is simple. I went along to my local donation centre, filled in a couple of forms and drank a big glass of water. I had a "thumb-prick test" to check my iron levels – luckily, I'd been eating enough leafy greens. Then I lay on a bed and looked the other way while a needle was inserted into a vein in my arm. I chatted to a colleague to distract myself for about 10 minutes while the blood was taken, gently clenching and unclenching my fist to boost circulation.
Afterwards, I sat down with a cold drink and some biscuits (tea, contrary to popular belief, isn't allowed after your first donation). I'd been worried about feeling faint, but I was absolutely fine. The needle itself did hurt a little, but it was soon over. The whole process took about 30 minutes from start to finish, and I felt ashamed that I hadn't done it before.
Later, I asked Jon Latham, the assistant director of blood donation at NHSBT, why only 4% of the population of England and Wales actively donates. He listed the reasons: fear of pain and the unknown, busy lives, cultural barriers. A lot of people donate up until their mid-20s and then drift away. "Having children tends to be a certain trigger that makes them come back. Then we've got them for life."
Which is a good thing, considering we need 8,000 donors a day and 230,000 new donors a year. "Giving blood is almost a social responsibility," said Latham. "The impact it has is immense."
On 31 October 2007, at about 1pm, I was riding my motorbike on my way to visit my mum. A transit van pulled out across me, to go down the road I'd just gone up, and just wiped me out. It didn't stop, but dragged me along behind it.
I broke 40 bones altogether. I died on the tarmac, before paramedics revived me. During the following operations, I died twice more. I received 40 pints of blood within the first few hours of being admitted – I broke two femoral arteries and fractured my pelvis in five places. My liver was pouring out blood.
I don't remember a thing until about eight weeks later. I was in an induced coma. I was taken to hospital on the Wednesday. On the Friday, the doctors told my family to think about turning off the life-support machine, and about the possibility of donating my organs. Luckily by Monday I'd levelled out.
I had operation after operation, some up to seven hours long. I've just had my final operation and I'm as good as I'm ever going to get. I've retired now. As well as being physically disabled, I've suffered permanent brain damage due to a severe fracture of the skull.
I gave blood before the accident. I can't do it now, because of the transfusion I've had. My advice is: don't think, just do it, because you never know what life's got in store for you. You may need blood for yourself in a week's or a year's time, or you may never need it. If I hadn't had it, I wouldn't be here – I'd be dead. It's as simple as that.
I set off to see my mum and it took me six months to get there. When I did, I was in a wheelchair and covered in steel supports.
When I was about 17, I was diagnosed with PNH [in which the body's immune system breaks down blood cells] and aplastic anaemia [in which the bone marrow doesn't produce sufficient new blood cells]. They're separately really rare – PNH is one in a million – and the chances of getting a combination of them is unbelievably small. From then on, things changed. I had complications, such as acute kidney failure, and I caught meningitis twice.
I went from being a normal kid to having blood transfusions every two weeks. Then it was down to every two months. Right now, I haven't had blood for nine and a half months – the longest period yet. But all those times I have had blood are now paying off. Before I was diagnosed, I knew about giving blood, but it never really occurred me to give it, and now I see how much it's completely changed my life.
If I could give blood now, I definitely would. Our bone marrow makes blood so quickly that it makes sense to donate some of it. Some people might be afraid of needles, but that's no reason to avoid donating. I used to be terrible with needles at the start of my illness – I'd faint all the time – but now I don't bat an eyelid. You may feel a bit weak afterwards, but that's a small price to pay.
Blood donations saved me countless times, when I was so ill I could barely climb the stairs. When I felt like a 70-year-old man, despite being only 18. I appreciate being on a high right now even more having known the lows.
I gave birth to my daughter Eliza on 14 January 2011. The pregnancy went well, but the labour was awful. It started on a Monday and I only finally went into hospital on the Thursday evening. Although my waters broke at 10pm, there wasn't much progress. At around 4am, the consultant came to monitor the baby's heartbeat, only to find that she was very stressed and her rate was dropping. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by white jackets. Eliza was born via a forceps delivery, with me sustaining third-degree tears.
I held Eliza for all of 60 seconds, and then was taken into surgery to have an episiotomy. I was in the operating theatre for over two hours. There were medics huddled around me, and I heard them saying things like "heart rate dropping", "rapid blood loss", and "we need another consultant in here". I was scared and disorientated with all the drugs. I honestly thought I was going to die.
When I came round, the consultants told me that I'd need several blood transfusions because I'd sustained heavy blood loss. I felt very weak and incredibly tired. Put simply, if I'd not had the transfusions – which amounted to over two pints – I would not have lived.
I used to give blood before my pregnancy. As a result of the transfusions I can't any more, which is sad. Giving blood is one of the most altruistic things a person can do. Unfortunately, not enough people from black and minority ethnic (BME) communities give blood because there are various stigmas attached – for example, some Muslims mistakenly think it is haraam (prohibited by their faith), or that by giving blood they'll become anaemic.
Each pint of blood could potentially save the lives of three adults or seven babies. Donated blood is needed every three seconds, and it only takes a few minutes of your time to give blood.
In 2004, I was diagnosed with rectal cancer. I had chemotherapy and radiotherapy. The latter was successful, but it had turned all my plumbing to jelly! They had to operate, and in the operation I died three times. It sounds like an exaggeration, but in one operation I needed 42 pints of blood. Altogether, I've had 92 pints of blood and blood products.
I was a blood donor beforehand – I'd given 57 pints up to that point. Only 4% of the population do give blood, and 25% of them never go back after the first time. But if you were to go under the No 9 bus at lunchtime, the blood will be there. People in Kent, by giving blood, have made it possible for me to know my grandchildren.
My wife Iris and I both started giving blood when we got engaged and bought our first car. We took the view that if we were in a car crash, we'd need blood – so that focused the mind. After we got married, Iris had an ectopic pregnancy. She received blood then – three or four pints of it.
My advice would be this: find the time! The system only works because people put themselves out. It's a way you can do some good. It's not a big deal, it doesn't take very long and it doesn't hurt. Twice a year, that's all you need. People mean to do it and don't get round to it. Now's your chance.
I was two weeks overdue, so I had to go into hospital to be induced. Zack was a big baby – 10lb 7oz – and it was a very difficult, very traumatic birth for both me and him. At first, it was just a relief that he was OK.
It was afterwards that I needed a transfusion. Soon I was getting spots in front of my eyes, and then I collapsed. It came as a great shock – I've never fainted before in my life. They did some blood tests and found out that I'd lost 700ml – about one and a quarter pints. As soon as they found out that my levels were so low, I immediately had two bags of blood, and had to have iron tablets for several weeks.
I just remember that I wanted to sleep. It was tough for Zack. He was depending on me, and I didn't have the strength to support him. We were eventually in hospital for about nine or 10 days – there seemed to be one thing after another. After I had the blood transfusion Zack contracted an infection, and they also found out that he had a slight heart murmur. Having the transfusion at the start gave me greater strength to cope with the extra challenges that kept coming up.
I never gave blood before I had to receive it. But having received blood, I understand the importance and would now love to donate – though obviously I can't. It can make a tremendous difference in the saving and improvement of other people's lives. I don't know what we'd do without people who give blood. It's such a selfless act.
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