$$ plasma 4 money $$
is donating plasma ethical? roll with me here
cw: body gore, needles, other gross stuff
i work full time, we know this. i’m paying the rent of a stabilized apartment. i pay my sallie mae loans every month ($530- woof). after all is said and done i have about $200 to last me two weeks. no “oh shit” money. no “buy you a drank” money. no paying copays for me- straight to collections it goes. i’m broke! just like everyone else1!!!!! because i’m so broke, i’ve resorted to donating plasma to make extra cash. the only trouble is that it’s absolutely an insane process from top to bottom. i figured my experiences were worth sharing for anyone curious.
the first time i went i expected to maybe be there three hours tops. nope! almost four and a half hours total. this is because they have to check your id, your social security number, and then they quickly flash you the symptoms of AIDS and ask you to name three. i wasn’t prepared for a quiz!! after that they sat my ass down and made me read a binder with a bunch of information (“what is plasma?”, “what are the symptoms of AIDS again?”, “did you get a tattoo recently?”). then, when you’re done with that, you get a set of earbuds and are made to watch a video version of the binder you just read. this part really presses the whole “are you a sex worker?”, “do you share needles?”, “do you live with someone who has hepatitis?” it’s tedious, cumbersome, but necessary, i suppose? they can’t utilize the plasma if the donor is positive with something, and while i understand that, the manner in which they explain that is both overwhelming and borderline discriminatory. it’s like they’re drilling it this many times to assume you’re positive, assuming you partake in these kinds of things. why else would you need the money?
it’s important for me to say that while i am in my mid-twenties and am struggling financially (in my own way), i see that this is something i do to be able to buy lunch, pay for a drink at karaoke, and sometimes pay bills- it is not a dire need. but for the other people who donate, who are regulars at this clinic: they do this to survive. they do this as a primary source of income to pay bills, to afford food, all year long. this is something i do when i’ve failed at managing my money. i also would like to specify that this clinic is in a primarily black, brown and lower-income neighborhood. i don’t think that’s a coincidence. rich people don’t donate plasma, and i wonder if it was in a different area, and therefore a different demographic, if they would frame these things the way that they do. after going in and seeing the way things are handled, how people are spoken to, how often things are repeated, i wonder about the ethics of it all. this company is marketing itself to a specific demographic, and yet persecutes that same demographic once they arrive. the entire time you’re in there they’re building up this feeling of uneasiness. they need you to know: we need you, but we don’t trust you yet.
i understand that there’s a reason why they ask if donors use needles, if they participate in risky sexual activities, etc. i understand why these people would also be open to donating plasma for money just as much as anyone else would. i don’t know the statistics between those who do and still try to donate and those who do not, but to operate under the assumption that the majority do is not sustainable, or fair. they’re asking people this just to cross their t’s and dot their i’s legally, to be able to say they warned them. this inherently creates a hostile environment, an air of distrust. even for me. and i’m sure for the regulars it’s even worse.
after finishing the binder, the video, and waiting in line, it was time to go in and get my blood tested and get a physical. the guy who was assessing me was absolutely trying to flirt with me. what?? i have a fuck ton of allergies and conditions, so i was almost unable to donate, but because i’m one medication shy of not being eligible (if you take three or more medications per condition you can’t donate) i got the ok, but not before they checked my arms and fingers for needle marks.
“sorry,” the overworked (and only) attendant said while he did it, “we have to”.
going in and donating is super weird. i’ve never donated blood before, so seeing everyone hooked up to machines, on their phones, and pumping their fists on little stress balls was pretty jarring. the donation itself, however, wasn’t too bad. my phlebotomist was an aspiring actor. nice guy. handled the needle like butter. the donation process itself is like, 45 minutes. after you fill the whole bottle with plasma they pump you with saline. it was cold as shit and made me so lightheaded i saw stars. they wrapped my arm tight as hell and with $60 in a prepaid card and newfound goosebumps, i was on my way. keep the arm wrapped for hours, no heavy lifting, eat as soon as you can and stay hydrated. that night i drank wine and almost passed out. my fault. dummy!
the second time, however, was very different. i went in and had to sign in, answering the same questions all over again. “have you participated in risky sex in the past three months?” no. “have you been paid for sex in the last three months?” no. “have you had sex with a male who has had sex with another male in the past three months?” no. i then waited about two and a half hours. they finally get me in the chair and the phlebotomist comes over. she tells me she’s struggling to find a good vein, and she uses this lil straw thing attached to a plastic pouch that i think was sucking at my skin to make a mark? eventually, she sticks the needle in and my skin immediately balloons around it. like, easily an inch up. it was giving alien. sigourney weaver.
“hmmm.” she says.
hmmm?
“you infiltrated.” she says it the same way you’d say “your shoe is untied” or “the flashlight on your phone is on.” too fucking casual for my taste!
I WHAT? all that’s flashing through my mind is the warning from the binder, the video, and the overworked attendant from that one time telling me that there’s like a .0000001% chance i could get an embolism from this process. is that was this is??? am i dying????
“you’re fine!” she insists, seeing the fear in my eyes and taking my hand and putting it on a piece of gauze for pressure. she took the needle out, and walked over to the computer. “your veins are a bit wonky so instead of going into it i went through it. you’re just bleeding under your skin. it’ll be fine! just bruised. but you can’t donate today until it clears up. don’t worry, you’ll still get paid.” she was very nice. a may taurus. i asked.
well, thank god for that! she then wrapped my arm and then put an ice pack on and wrapped that. another attendant walked up to me and was all “oh you infiltrated, huh? you’ll be fine”. my phlebotomist hands me a care sheet and mr. man stays around to keep making lil comments and jokes.
“so how long do i leave the ice pack on?”
the two then began to flirt-argue in front of me about how long i should ice my internally bleedy vein. she’s telling me he’s wrong, he’s giving her the side eye and clearing his throat. they are flirting with each other through me and through my infiltrated vein. like, i’m right here?? and bleeding??? finally i had had enough and was like “ok so what do i do?” he ended up being right*, but she rolled her eyes at me and him when she said so. i took it off once it lost its cold.
so, i left. my arm is still bruised, and while i got $70 this time around, i’m left wondering if this is the best option for me to earn extra cash. for a moment there, i was so fucking panicked. i thought i was dying! it’s so fucking invasive, and it takes the rest of the day away from you. is it actually worth it for me when in reality i should just get another job? this line of thought only further clarifies that this is not a need for me, but a clear decision i’ve made!!! i’m priveleged enough to think this way and have that option. my mom gives me money when i need it. my bills get paid. in reality, i’m fine. those regulars, however, do this because they feel so backed into a corner financially that there’s little to no other options left for them. how is that right? what’s the alternative? how does someone do good by donating plasma while also being made to feel guilty for living a certain way, but then get “rewarded” with little money compared to the time and literal blood (plasma) given?
building a center like this in this neighboorhood was nothing short of intentional and manipulative. what’s ethical about a big medical corporation profiting off of plasma donations from primarily black and brown bodies for little compensation in the grand scheme of things? their tactics are sharpened and clear: appealing to the masses with increased payments the more you come in, texts about “holiday deals”, additional compensation for every person you refer. this is then followed by bombarding questions about your sex habits and possible drug use, then closed off with information about the risk and possible danger of donation. they are constantly assuming that this is part of your lifestyle. “why else would you be here if your life wasn’t filled with what we think poor people experience? what else would you need this money for?”. it’s heartbreaking that lower income people have to spend hours of their lives, multiple times a week, donating something from their bodies at $60/$70 a pop. on their website they say you can make hundreds of dollars in a month- this would only be possible if you’re going about 2-3 times a week. how is this sustainable? these people don’t deserve to live believing that they need to donate parts of themselves just to make ends meet, just to survive, and still be made to feel as if they’re doing something wrong. made to feel that their lifestyles deserve to be questioned and criticized for being in need of the money this service is promising them. they deserve more. more than all of this.
i say this out of truth, but also to be funny and make light of my situation. i don’t want to be unaware of the fact that my situation is not the worst it could be, nor am i on the verge of anything. i don’t have money to get myself a little treat from time to time, and sometimes my bank account is in the negative. to me, that sometimes feels like the end of the world. but it’s a small problem compared to many other circumstances. let’s keep that at the forefront of this essay.