Donating Plasma

This is one of those situations where Biomat ended up on my spite list. I'd heard about donating

plasma for money from a facebook group, and they listed Gilfols as a place that you could donate plasma for cash.
Now, I don't give much in society, but what I can do is give blood. I have O-; the universal donor. And I will gladly take time out of my day to donate as much as I can. The process of giving blood is pretty quick - usually takes about an hour (including the prescreen, the blood draw itself takes about 17 minutes) unless they are slammed. But plasma is a bit different. With plasma, you are hooked up to an aphresis machine and it separates your plasma and returns the red blood cells back to you along with saline. Due to this, the process takes roughly one to two hours. Plus, plasma regenerates in the body very quickly. While whole blood takes 56 days, plasma takes about 48 hours. Another downside to plasma is that it takes 6-10 donations from the same person to make just 1 dose of medicine for someone, where as whole blood can save up to 3 lives for one donation. So, because of these caveats, it makes sense that companies have to entice people with monetary gain in order to keep coming back to donate. A sad but realistic truth.

Anyway, I'm here to tell you about the process of donating plasma in case you were interested. Gilfols is only one company out of dozens that do this and each place is a bit different, but this was my experience. And I can tell you straight up that they really really need to streamline their process. Although returns visits will take under 2 hours, first timers (me) took 5. Yes, FIVE HOURS.

So the reason that Biomat [Gilfols] was on my spite list was because on my first trip out there they ask you to fill out as basic form that lists your medications. Well, being a good citizen, I noted that I take Phentermine but only once a week. However, they didn't like that and wanted a note from my doctor saying it was okay to take it and donate plasma. Fine. Sent my doctor an email and she said no, she will go by whatever they recommend. FINE. So, I stop taking the phentermine. I go back. I fill out the form again. Then they say I need a note from my doctor that I had stopped taking the phentermine. Sigh. So, turned away again! Finally get the note that I stopped and now we can proceed from stage 1, which was a quick nurse assessment of the form/medications.

Stage 2 was a quick vein check and was told to read a binder about plasma donations and medications I can't take etc. If you give blood, this is similar to that. Then back out into the waiting room.

Stage 3 is watch a short video on an ipad about how donating plasma saves lives etc out in the waiting area.

Stage 4 is getting called back into the prescreen area where they ask you to answer 65 questions about sexual history, tattoos, needles, diseases, travel etc. Again, similar to the whole blood questionnaire. And then they take your vitals. Anything here can disqualify you. Hematocrit, temp, blood pressure, protein levels. My temp was too low and had to wait 15 minutes for another retake.

Stage 5 Getting called back to do the physical. He/she will make you do a urine test and has you rewatch the short video while that's processing (really?) They then read from a booklet that basically restates what you just watched (really?).  Then they will check your reflexes, eyes, nose, ears, ankles, abdomen, basically checking for any sign of infection or needle injection sites.
[By the way, the guy whom checked me and who was the same paramedic who stroke me off the list for the phentermine (which only has a 28 hour half life ffs!) is such a cocky bastard. I can imagine how much of a joy he must be to work with.]

Stage 6 Eat, and wait. Because you've been here for almost 4 hours at this point and you're damn hungry and need to eat before you donate plasma, and they have cup noodles and Gatorade. Yay.

Stage 7 DONATE. This is a bit different than whole blood. They want you to pump your fist the entire time that it's drawing from you. I'm not sure what the cycle timer is but it feels like a while, maybe 10 minutes, and your hand gets tired. Then, the pressure on the cuff will release and you stop pumping your fist as your red cells get returned back to you. You can watch as each cycle drops more plasma into the container and you can see how much longer you've got. I watched an episode of The Flash on Netflix while I did it. You just have to be cognizant of when you pump your fist and when not to.


Stage 8 Wait to get paid. For the donation center up here, the pay scale goes like this:
$75 for the first and $75 second donation (they teach you that you must donate at least twice or the first batch gets tossed. That makes me sad)

$50 for the 3rd and $50 for the 4th donation

$100 for the 5th donation (which is weird because they say they need at least 6 to make a dose of medicine so I'm not sure why it's like that)

$50 for the 6th donation (if it's within the same month) and every subsequent donation adds $5 to your running total that month [In a new month, it starts at $25]. Since you can donate basically up to 2x a week that can add up pretty quickly, but remember, its 2 hours out of your day. So, it's a toss up. Just think though, it's not just about getting money; you are saving lives, even if it's the pharmaceutical companies shilling for your bodily fluids.

I just donated for my 6th time. I will get up to 7 before I turn around and donate whole blood on September 1st. Then I have to wait 56 days before I can donate plasma again. My body needs a plasma break anyway. I've started to bruise easily and I have to take a double dose of my iron pills just to keep my levels high enough to pass the screening. Not to mention that I need to slam back even more protein with weight training and plasma donation. It can be tough. But, I thought I'd let you guys know the process just in case you were interested!

I AM STILL IN AWE

You bet your bottom dollar that I would travel to see this eclipse. I may never see another one again in my lifetime, and a little travel and traffic isn't going to stop me from experiencing the greatest astronomical event ever.

Leading up to the big day was very stressful for me because I had planned on photographing it. Reading up on it and doing research (including downloading Photopills to my phone which gave me data about places, times, direction and azimuth) helped, but I am very much still an amateur and I knew I was only going to get one shot at this and if I messed it up I was going to be really upset. I wasn't going to expect perfection out of myself, but I needed this to be decent at least, which is why I knew I was going to do a time lapse.

I had also made my own solar filter by buying a flat sheet (certified of course) of material and cutting a circle to fit in between two UV filters. That worked amazingly well. I chose Lime, Oregon for my destination solely on it being in the direct path of totality (for the longest exposure time). I will talk more about my actual trip in another post, though. For now, I want to focus on the eclipse.

I do not have the words to express how amazing, how awesome, how incredible seeing the eclipse was for me. Let me try to describe it for you.

You're sitting in a camping chair at 9 o'clock in the morning, surrounded by hundreds of other people that are just as excited as you to watch this phenomenon. It's already at least 80 degrees outside; the sun is beating down on you and trying to burn your skin but you were smart enough to put sunscreen on. You begin to get anxious. At 9:08, you put on your very uncomfortable solar eclipse glasses that you got for free from the library and look up at the sun.

You see nothing.

But then, other people proclaim "I can see it! It's starting!" You look back up at the sun and finally notice it - just a little tiny shadow over one corner. Your heart beats faster. The heat from the sun sears your sensitive skin but you don't care. You lean back in your chair and stare at the sun until your eyes begin to cross. This is a very slow process, you think. You're excited, but can't look up forever. You take several breaks as the moon creeps closer to the center. You notice that the temperature is seeming to drop even though it should technically be getting hotter as the day goes on. The moon is not only blocking the light but it is blocking the heat. It's flipping awesome and very relieving. Staring up at the sun all this time was making you second guess if the amount of sunscreen you put on was enough.

You begin to feel an anxious excitement again as the moon gets closer and closer to the center. The sun is just a sliver now as you start to realize that the world around you is getting duller. It's not exactly getting darker per se, just oddly grayish, as if everything around you is losing color. What was once a temperature of 85 is now closer to 75.

Then, all at once, totality. There is a bright flash as the last remaining bit of light is being blocked by the moon, and you remove your solar glasses so that you can see what is going on. The world immediately plunges into darkness as if someone hit the light switch of the planet. It's not completely black - more like an early morning or late twilight. You notice Bailey's beads... they're little red specks on the corner of the sun before the moon completely covers it.Your heart seems to stop as the corona of the sun is now visible; undulating white wispy waves coming out of a black hole in the center. It reminds you of angel wings - you know this is what they look like even though you've never seen them. It's hard to breathe. You can't even think but to repeat how beautiful it is. A couple of stars appear, winking at you as the moon hogs all the glory in the moment.

It's so hard to look away, but you want to see what everything around you looks like. It's far from silent with so many people. The twilight seems very unnatural; it would be unnerving if you didn't know what was happening. Since not all the light is gone, the only stars you see are the two next to the sun - they are probably Venus and Mars. But, you can't look away too long - the eclipse is finite; you don't want to miss a single moment.

It's almost as if everything is taking in a collective breath and holding it. You wonder if time has stopped, but then another flash appears as the Diamond comes out - a bright ball of light in the corner, and you know it's over and you must put your uncomfortable solar glasses back on again. The light immediately returns and people clap and woot and yell as if the sun would bow at its performance. I would, if I were the sun.

Many people begin to pack up and leave now that the "best part" is over, but you can't tear yourself away. It's not over yet. The moon still has to pass over the other side. Color begins to return to your surroundings as the temperature begins to rise again. The only stragglers left are the astronomers and photographers.

Once it's finally over, time seems to resume. It's almost as if you were on another planet for 2-1/2 hours, where nothing existed but the sun and the moon, competing for space. 

Totality was so short, but it's now seared into your mind forever. The time, the travel, the traffic. It was all worth it for those two fleeting minutes of your life. A moment you will never forget for as long as you live.