Giving a little meant such a lot to me, says Sarah Cowen-Strong

I had fixed the October date just days before when I had given blood for only the second time in nearly 40 years, a revisited experience that was exciting, rewarding and, not least, an excuse to eat two packets of crisps in the space of an hour.

Such is the efficiency of the NHSBT – National Health Service Blood and Transplant – that I was able to go online and sort out another four-monthly slot immediately. And such is the motivation of the donor service that it is now ringed on the calendar and I can’t wait.

Things were very different back in the 1970s. My friend and I only donated blood because we had some time to kill before the pubs opened. We walked into the session off the streets, and within minutes were lying flat on grey hospital blankets, hooked up and ready to go. Three custard creams later and we were back outside – no ‘go carefully, keep well, drink little and see-you-again dear’.

Everything was done properly, but I had no compulsion to go again, which wasn’t helped by either being at work or pregnant for the next few decades. Taking time out to give blood slipped under my radar.

Now I’m back and it’s all down to my elder daughter. She is one of only six per cent to have O negative blood, which can be given to people with blood from any other group, and is often carried on air ambulances for this reason.

Barely a week after her donation she received a text thanking her, and telling her that her blood had helped someone in Gloucestershire. She sent a copy of the message to her siblings and myself – and within minutes, so moved were we by her life-saving enterprise, that we had all booked appointments ourselves. This time round, it was a very difference experience. I didn’t head to a dusty church hall, but a function room in a fancy hotel.

I was able to book ahead for an after-work slot, and, like all fellow donors, was met with open arms. Forms were filled in and biscuits and cups of water were pressed upon us. My clinical hospital bed of yore was now a custom-built chair and an up-beat radio station was played in the background.Tips on buttock-clenching to improve the blood flow were given, while accompanying children were encouraged to study the blood packs, and tell their friends back at school of the ‘amazing scenes’ they had witnessed.

So not a bad evening. There was hardly any pain, a text thanking me came through before I even reached home – and I could feel justified in stuffing my face all evening. Roll on October.

l See www.blood.co.uk for details.