As our cashflow continues to take a turn for the worse,* I have been looking to several side hustles in an attempt to try to even things out. Sure, there are the usual ones (some of which I will write about later, almost certainly), but I have also looked into one I heard about for decades but never got around to trying until now: donating plasma.
Donating plasma???
Why did I avoid donating plasma?
When I was in college, I was spending a fair amount. I did all the usual college stuff: dates, eating out with friends, fun activities, weekend trips, dates, etc. But there were times in my college life when I didn’t really have nearly as much cash as I would like for some of these activities. During one of these times, one of the other guys on my dormitory hall mentioned that he was making extra money selling plasma. (It wasn’t until much later that I heard that they call it “donating plasma”.)
My dormmate told us about it, or at least he hit the high points: you go in, get stuck with a needle, and eventually get money. Sounds simple enough, doesn’t it? You would think so, or at least my 18-year-old self did.
But then my 18-year-old self made a mistake: I mentioned it to my parents. My mother was aghast, telling me that those places were filthy, and who knows what could happen, and that she really didn’t want me to go to do that. (She mentioned something along the lines of “if you need more money, we can get you more money!” As I recall, what it turned out that meant was getting me cash out of my own bank account, back before the days of easy ATM access. Hmph.)
And so, for many years, I never tried donating plasma.
Trying it out
Many years later, with money getting tight around my household, I figured desperate times called for desperate measures. I did research on what the places were like, and I read the websites of some of the places, and I figured, why not?
There were a couple of plasma donation centers near me, so I chose the nearest one. The center I chose, Biomat USA, said on its webpage (the local webpage, that is – here is the national one) that as a first-time donor, I could receive $75 for each of my first three “donations”.** That sounded especially good, so I went ahead and made a reservation to visit.
The first visit was much longer than the subsequent ones. This was because they want all new donors to undergo a physical examination. It was a fairly minor examination (nothing too intrusive), but it did take a little while. This is in addition to the usual quick check they do every time donors come in (check weight, blood pressure, condition of your arms, finger poke) and the questionnaire you have to fill out each time stating that you’ve been healthy, etc.
Finally, I was ready to go back and actually start the donation process. After a little bit of procedural stuff, I was finally on the table, reclining, ready for the process to begin.
I’ve donated whole blood before many times, and, like it is for pretty much everyone else who’s done it, my least favorite moment is the moment the needle penetrates my arm, searching for my vein. Well, that experience is no better here. To be honest, it’s been a little worse during some visits.
This was the closest image I could find that didn’t show someone with a needle in their arm, because ewww. Image courtesy Pixabay.
Okay, I’m stuck
Once everything was in place, everything was pretty much automated. Blood was removed from my arm, during which time I was squeezing my fist over and over, rapidly. Following that, the cuff on my upper arm automatically relaxed a little, and the red blood cells, having been separated from the plasma, were returned to the vein. The machine helpfully told me when to squeeze and when I could stop, though this was pretty obvious after the first cycle.
The first time, though, there was a problem. For whatever reason – perhaps not enough of a clotting agent was used – my blood stopped flowing through the tube. There was an audible notification, and fairly quickly, someone was there trying to figure out what was going on. Pretty quickly after that, she went ahead, removed the needle, and wrapped my arm. Apparently, I was done early. They gave me a Gatorade to replenish my electrolytes before allowing me to leave.
Thankfully, as she explained while I drank a lousy flavor of Gatorade***, I had donated enough plasma before this happened that it “counted”. If it hadn’t counted, I would have had to go through the whole “first visit” procedure, including another examination. Also, if it hadn’t counted, I wouldn’t have been paid. That would have been…frustrating.
All in all, the first experience was not the greatest. At least I left with a prepaid credit card loaded with $75 for my troubles.
Donating plasma: Take two
After that fun time, I did decide to go back. Partially (mostly), this was because, for me to get paid the $75 each for donating plasma two more times, all three donations had to be within 14 days. So, about a week later, I was there again.
Biomat did not do themselves any favors on this visit, either. Somehow, they managed to lose my address, so they needed me to verify it again, or I would not be allowed to donate. After a rather annoying ten minutes, I remembered that I could access my electric bill with my cell phone, which put this chapter to rest.
The actual donation, this time, went fairly well. I actually got to find out how the process is supposed to end. After the last cycle of blood removal and replacement, a solution of electrolytes is placed into the vein to replace what was taken out with the plasma. That is a strange sensation, as that solution is noticeably colder than anything else that flows into or out of my vein.
Subsequent visits
Since then, donating plasma with Biomat has gone fairly well, with the exception of one bad stick where they somehow caused pain to shoot down my arm very briefly. The payments have gone down from the $75 I was paid for the initial three visits, but they are still decent. Also, occasionally, Biomat sends text messages offering a higher payment if I come in the next week.
So, will I be going back? Well, it’s probably not my first choice, but it’s guaranteed income, unlike some other side hustles. I wouldn’t be surprised if I find myself walking in their door again at least once in the next month.
(Before I forget: I am aware of the position that plasma donation centers are basically set up to fleece the poor. Maybe they are, but, as I said, it’s guaranteed income, and I typically only go when I get one of those text messages offering a higher payment.)
And what do you, dear reader, think? Would this be a good use of your time? Is it a good use of mine?
p.s.
In typical fashion for me, I took way too long to get from starting this post to finishing it. In the meantime, I donated plasma one more time.
I noticed, as I prepared to donate, that a few things have changed in the past month. The need for reservations has now disappeared, and I noticed that Biomat’s promised three $75 payments for new donors has changed to $75, $75, and $50.
The donation, well…did not go great. For the second straight time, I had to sit quietly while the technician dug around inside my arm trying to find the same vein they always use. Also for the second straight time, I found myself bleeding from the needle site, several hours after the donation was finished; on the earlier visits, I was able to remove the dressing after two hours without any bleeding, so this was not typical or in keeping with what I was told.
So, as I sit here with a bandage on my arm (which I had to have my daughter put on me after the dressing came off), I have come to the definite conclusion that, while the money was decent for the first few visits, I do not want to be donating plasma often, if at all, in the future. At this point, I don’t care if I get texts offering extra incentives to come in. There are other ways of making money. Less painful ones.
As always, your mileage may vary, but, at least for the foreseeable future, I’m done.
* I wrote about the issues my family is facing here.
** Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think this really counts as a “donation”.
*** For future reference, my only preferred flavor of Gatorade is Fruit Punch. Only only. The one I was given was not that flavor.
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