Over this past week, I've started donating plasma. Unlike when you donate blood, the machine takes out the blood, extracts the plasma from it, and then puts the rest of the blood plus some saline solution back into you. Yes, it hurts. But also unlike when you donate blood, you get paid for it. And, at least at the center where I do it, you can donate up to twice per week instead of having to wait eight weeks or whatever it is when you donate whole blood.
I'd heard about aftereffects like feeling weak, dizzy, and or lightheaded from giving blood, so I suspected those things could happen after a plasma donation, too. But actually experiencing them is something else entirely. The donation center says not to do any heavy lifting or intense exercise for five-ish hours after you donate, and now I understand why. For the rest of the donation day and sometimes part of the next day . . .
I have to force myself to walk slower, drink more water, and take it easy so I don't get lightheaded or throw off my balance.
I'm more tired than even the shorter fall/winter days (😥) can account for.
I don't think or process information as quickly.
It takes more effort to be engaged in conversations.
I'm generally a healthy person, so I was surprised that donating took so much out of me. I think it's my body's way of saying, "Um, excuse me. You just sucked out 887 milliliters [about 3.75 cups] of fluid from my life juice, and you're expecting me to operate at full capacity? No, ma'am!"
This reminded me of one of my pet peeves in fiction. In certain genres, particularly fantasy or adventure, characters frequently get stabbed, get shot, or otherwise end up bleeding. But while these characters might be physically weak afterwards for however long drama dictates, we rarely see how "losing a lot of blood" affects their mental states (unless they pass out, of course).
And what on earth constitutes "losing a lot of blood," anyway? If by "a lot" we mean "enough to start causing problems," this Healthline article and this one suggest that "a lot" is about 15 to 20 percent of the patient's total blood volume. It takes a 30-to-40-percent loss to cause fainting. So a 150-pound adult, for example, would start to look pale and feel sick after losing just under 3 cups of blood, and they'd pass out at around 6 cups. For comparison, an average childbirth costs the mother a little over 2 cups of blood—slightly more than a typical blood donation.
All this suggests that if my physical and mental reactions to losing about 3.75 cups of plasma—not even whole blood—are typical, anyone who goes down from blood loss is going to be in rough shape for a while. At least for a few days, they're not going to be in any condition to get up and keep fighting, lead a strategy session, or do anything else that requires a clear head or steady hand.
Situations like these can be tricky to write because we often don't know what we don't know about the technical aspects of blood loss, hotwiring a car, or whatever mess we've gotten our characters into. But if we get important details wrong in a published book, we can end up looking really, really dumb. That's why it's so important to have another set of eyes on your manuscript before you send it out to the world. Click here to set up a time for you and me to chat about how we can do a search-and-destroy for errors in your book.
Write on,
Candice
(Photo: LuAnn Hunt, Unsplash)