I walked in to a dreary place that smelled stale and medicinal. Young, indifferent employees in tattered lab coats ran the place. I was examined by a doctor after a blood draw. I was asked about my sexual and drug habits. I lied and said I was heterosexual. I didn't, of course, have to lie about drugs.
I read the disclaimers and waivers. Something about the chemicals used to separate platelets from plasma: some people have allergic reactions. I'm never allergic to anything.
I sat in a "Captain Kirk" chair: heavily upholstered in the plastic barbers and beauty shops had, fully reclining, with, of course, large arm rests. I was daubed with betadine and an IV was inserted.
I seem to remember them telling me the whole procedure would take about 2 hours. I pulled out my book to read.
The blood is drawn from the body. It is then chemically "washed." The plasma is stored in an IV bag; the platelets (red blood cells) are returned to the "donor."
One can "donate" every three days, rather than the 30 days required to replenish blood cells for blood donation.
Each visit pays $25. New donors get a $10 bonus the first time. Donors who recommend other donors get $10 bonuses per person. If one donates consistently, one also receives bonuses.
My fellow donors were Mexican immigrants, homeless guys of all races, white students.
Near the end of the procedure, I heard the sound of the machine change.
I had the oddest sensation. I felt my head sinking into the chair back. I felt that, if the sensation continued much longer, my entire head would be swallowed by the chair, which enter my nose and mouth, and I would drown in the chair.
