Giving Blood: A Cross Cultural Experience or Speed Dating

Grace and I have been entertaining the idea of donating blood for a few weeks now but haven’t found the right time. Due to the blood supply shortages here and around the world for that matter, and the fact that after living in Africa it’s approximately two years before I can donate in the States again, we thought it was important to do while we had the chance. Today we finally decided to just do it. Mom I know you’re probably freaking out at this point but just take a deep breath and know chose a legitimate donation center and were very cautious throughout the process.

When we asked at the reception desk where we could donate we were directed to another building where we found ourselves in a room full of unmarked doors and no reception desk. Once we found the registration room I headed in first because Grace had forgotten to bring an ID. It later turned out ID was not necessary, apparently just an easier way of getting information. I answered a few simple questions, generally pertaining to information on my drivers license though a few related to my marital/dating status. Next I was sent to ‘the room across from here,’ of which there were three, all unmarked, for a consultation. As Grace so eloquently put it, it felt more like speed dating than a consultation. Yes he took our blood pressure and asked if we were on any medication/had we ever been hospitalized but these didn’t seem to be nearly as interesting to him as the questions again concerning marital/relationship status. The meeting was quick however and I was then on my way to the donation room which looked quite similar to any place I’ve donated in the states. I was directed to a chair while the doctor opened a NEW packet of supplies including the blood bags, tubes, and needle. He followed the same general procedure of tying off my arm, finding a vein, cleaning it, and inserting the needle. I was never concerned for my safety or health but I must say, had I never before donated I would have had no idea what was going on. There were no explanations of what to do or what would come next. No this is how you might feel or if you feel like this let me know. There were also no after care instructions other than being pointed to a final room were you received your recuperations. What in the States is generally a cookie tray and juice was a water sac, can of juice, warm milky drink that may have contained a tid bit of Nescafe, and a sandwich. Yup, the blood donation center is open from 9-12 and after you donate you are given a meat and fries sandwich, though apparently only if you actually donate. Grace tried to give but was more or less passed out after less than a minute. She only received juice and water. I never felt scared about the medical aspects of the experience, however I was a little confused when they tried to revive grace with a cotton swab doused in alcohol.

I wont be able to give again while I’m here, for which I know mom is very grateful, but it was a good experience to have. Even if my one time donation doesn’t make a big difference in the grand scheme of things, the process was effective in helping me to better understand the health care system within which the Senegalese must operate.