MBBS needs
your blood, sweat and tears. While sweat seeps through your clothes in summer
months when you have to run from one ward to the other and tears come on the
night before examinations, blood is extracted from you not only in the form of
physiology practical in first year but also in the form of regular blood
donation camps which are supposed to replenish the hospital blood bank. Being a
medico who has seen tiny kids suffering from chronic conditions like
thalassemia and hemophilia needing regular blood transfusion or a fateful
operation in the gynecology OT where the patient lost such a great deal of
blood that a med student almost fainted seeing that, one finds herself happily
obliging to donate.
There are
generally two options- one can either donate at an organized donation camp, or, if
one is really crazy enough, she can show up one fine morning at the office of
the blood bank in-charge suddenly volunteering to donate blood. If you go with
the first option, you get to donate with friends with familiar faces all
around, and donation is followed by a delicious food packet. However, if you go
for the second option, you are surely up for an adventure.
First you
follow a dingy corridor to the donation room where the registrar looks at you
incredulously asking a string of questions, “You are a student? You want to
donate for a particular patient? No? OMG, you are a voluntary donor? But why?
Why do you suddenly want to give up on 350ml of your own blood?” Then you need
to patiently answer him explaining how you missed the camp because of family
issues but you really want to donate, so you showed up. This is followed by a
long form fill up, where the registrar advices you, “Go through the form
properly. This is a gold mine of info for competitive exams.” And blimey! He is
right! You find the form to be full of info you did not know. Finally, when you
reach the phlebotomists, they treat you like some delicate blood donation fairy
they have never seen before. They say things like, “I can’t find your veins madam.
And I am scared you will be hurt, if I do something wrong. Let me call my
senior.” Then the kind registrar comes back and hands you the form asking you
to learn it by heart to pass the time. Ultimately the senior phlebotomist
comes, only to insert a big fat needle and do a long and weird vein-searching
under your skin which causes you to develop angry looking red bruises the next
day.
When you
are done, you get a pack of cake and juice and send the entire department into
a flurry of activities where everyone runs after giving you a certificate and a
donor card, but are utterly confused about what to write in the certificate. At
one point, you just want to scream, “I don’t want the certificate!” But you
cannot as the phlebotomist comes and presents you the certificate almost with a bow, adding, “Come back after 4 months madam. We need more donors like
you.” Then you promise yourself to go back the next time and also get a photo of
that form for future reference.
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