July 17th 2018
Today I tried, and failed, to donate blood for the fifth time in my life. Yep, on four previous occasions I have tried to give blood, but been unsuccessful, for whatever reason.
On the first three occasions I got as far as the chair, but wasn’t allowed to give blood because my iron levels were too low. I was annoyed, but I was only young, still growing, and had never eaten particularly nutritiously, so on those visits I went home with exactly the same amount as I started with. Well, except for the little bit taken by the pin-prick test they do on your finger to see if you have enough iron in your system. Or not enough, as the case was for me.
On the fourth occasion I tried to give blood, I was in a car accident on my way to the appointment. The car accident wasn’t serious, but it did mean I missed my chance to give blood again. That was a bit more annoying than the low iron levels, I’ll be honest.
And then today I missed my fifth scheduled blood donation because… I got the time wrong.
I thought it was at 18:30, but when I showed up to the community centre and found a kids dance class in the main hall and not the NHS, I realised I’d got the time wrong. I do, though, have a perfectly legitimate excuse for why I got the time wrong…
When I checked my Google Calendar last week to see what time my blood appointment was, it definitely said 18:30. I know that for sure, because I noted that that’s usually the exact time I play football on Tuesday evenings, so I’d have to miss the match to give blood.
What I didn’t realise, however, was that I was in Germany last week, and the Google Calendar said my appointment was at 18:30 because my phone was on German time: one hour ahead.
Fuck sake, James.
It’s almost like the universe wants me to keep all of my blood to myself.
I’m determined to become the type of guy who regularly donates blood, because my Dad is the kind of guy who regularly donates blood. He’s done it over 60 times in his life, and that makes me proud.
But yet, it seems that I am destined never to donate.
Until tomorrow, sorry, NHS, and sorry, Dad.