Estimated read time: 13 min
(Sigh) Yes… I was black listed by the Red Cross.
For the reader who is a recovering addict or alcoholic like myself, it should come as no surprise that in active addiction we can do…. some pretty outrageous things.
Now, to the non-alcoholic who may be reading this: first of all, welcome, we’re glad you are here. Secondly, I feel that it may be helpful for you to understand that when it comes to alcoholics and addicts in active addiction, the word outrageous could and probably should be considered code for: f#cked up, foolish, selfish, horrible, idiotic, illegal, idiotic, and often downright dangerous (Did, I mention idiotic).
Make no mistake though; that is not anywhere close to an exhaustive list of descriptions for the behaviors, antics, habits, and characteristics of an individual caught in the throes of active addiction, but, if nothing else, it’s a good place to start if you’re unfamiliar with our kind.
So, if you are in fact an Earth Person (non-alcoholic), buckle up and keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times. This ride may get a little baffling at times, shocking at others, and you may be compelled to fluctuate between having pity and being disgusted; I assure you both are entirely unnecessary. If you are a pickle, like myself, don’t worry. I’m sure you won’t even bat an eye. After all, I’m no special case, just a garden variety alcoholic, probably not so different from yourself.
Now that we’ve clarified all that, I’d like to share a little story with you all.
When I was a sophomore in high school, we had blood drives about twice a semester. Red Cross would come on campus, set up in the gymnasium for a few hours on a Friday, and eligible students and staff could donate blood. I’m not sure if that is a pretty common thing for public schools to do or not, but I think it’s a neat thing to do regardless.
I turned sixteen about two weeks in to my sophomore year of high school. In order to donate blood, you have to be at least 16 years of age (with parental consent), as well as, meet other criteria, but that’s neither here nor there at the moment. So, at sixteen, all 100lbs of me tried to donate blood–they wouldn’t take it. My iron levels weren’t high enough, and they said I didn’t weigh enough, so no blood donation from me.
Sometime later that same year is when my drinking career started. No, I didn’t start drinking because I was denied from donation blood, that would be silly. It’s just how things happened on the time line. My drinking started off pretty heavy from the first gulp. It got way worse sure, but it started off pretty heavy, too.
Later on, in my sophomore year, there was another campus-wide blood drive, so I tried it again. This time, I made it past the initial finger stick to test my iron level. Success! They were going to let me donate this time. I was quite pleased. Anyone who has donated blood before knows that there’s a whole application type survey that you have to take. The survey asks you to disclose just about everything about yourself that may be relevant to your body and the things you may or may not do with it. This includes sexual activity, drug usage, tattoos and piercing history, etc.
Don’t get me wrong; it’s for good reason. They (Red Cross) want to make sure that donating blood is safe for you and safe for the potential recipient of your donation. All the questions are fair. They don’t want to waste your time or theirs. Totally fair.
So, for the first time, I actually read the pamphlets, took the survey, and answered the questions.
How honestly did I answer the questions? Well that’s a different story. Remember before, when I said that my drinking career started sometime shortly after being denied for my first donation…? Yeah so, I started drinking sometime after the first attempt. but definitely, before my second attempt, to donate blood. I also mentioned before that I was drinking heavily very early on in my drinking career. Yeah, I lied about all of that on the surveys. ALL of it.
I also may or may not have drank heavily the night before this particular donation. Needless to say, after reading all of the warnings and possible negative impacts of having alcohol in my system when donating blood, I was concerned for my health and safety. However, at a mere and naïve 16 years old, I was more concerned with the prospect of being punished for admitting to underage drinking as a way to cancel my scheduled donation with the Red Cross.
I know now, due to all sorts of laws and regulations, that:
A) I can back out of a donation for any reason or no reason at all;
B) HIPPA says a medical professional can’t disclose such information unless I am in danger.
C) Chances are that my BAC was low enough by the time of my donation that it probably posed a limited or nonexistent threat.
I didn’t know any of that at the time though, so I decided to chance it and donate anyway.
My donation went without a hitch. They took my blood, I got my juice and cookies, and made my way back to class. Nothing, to my knowledge, ever happened. No medical emergency, no red flags on my donation, and no detectable physical side effects occurred. I was, however, paranoid.
I became a bit paranoid as to whether or not I would die (a bit extreme I know). Nevertheless, I decided it would be best (and safest) to consult with a well-educated source about my concerns.
“Hey Siri…”
I ended up on various websites, comment sections, and discussion forums, and I learned that my specific situation was probably nonthreatening. I was, however, warned that I should avoid any and all alcoholic beverages for a few days as it would be significantly easier for me to become intoxicated at a rate I would be unprepared for.
Look I’m no doctor or medical professional, so I am unsure of the validity of the “science” behind the sentiment that less blood in the body equals easier drunkenness, but all I needed to know was that it was even remotely accurate. As we often say in the rooms of recovery, I was off to the races!
Naturally, as my alcoholism progressed over time, I drank more heavily and more frequently. I became an around-the-clock drinker. I was kind of a raging alcoholic in case you haven’t picked up on that by now.
Alongside my increased drinking habits, I also made sure to keep an eye out for any and every blood drive I could be eligible for. I maintained my drinking behaviors and donated blood as often as possible.
Did this help me get drunk faster, or stay drunk longer? Honestly, I have no idea, but you couldn’t have convinced me it didn’t back then. I probably donated several pints of blood from the age of 16 to the age of 20. Donating blood became almost as compulsive of a behavior as my drinking was back then.
I was 20 years old before this dangerous and selfish habit caught up with me; ironically, that’s when my alcoholism caught up with me as well.
By the time I was 20, I was in my sophomore year of college here in South Georgia. I continued my drinking and my giving blood through the Red Cross organization. I had given several donations by the October of 2018. I was also regularly attending local Alcoholics Anonymous meetings by then–this is an important little tidbit for the next part of the story.
As my husband and fellow Grateful Nut, Stan has shared in his post “Don’t Fear the G-Word,” most AA meetings in South Georgia are located at churches, more specifically, Baptist Churches. Now don’t worry, this post won’t be delving into the discussion about religion versus spirituality, not even close. So while I was attending meetings, at the lowest spot in my active addiction, I was still giving blood donations through the Red Cross Organization.
Baptist churches are a popular thing in South Georgia. We are in the bible belt, so I guess that is to be expected. In my particular region of the bible belt, churches are a commonplace for hosting wedding ceremonies, graduation parties, memorial services, Weight Watchers support groups, Alcoholics/Narcotics Anonymous meetings, and also… blood drives.
All right. Y’all, start doing the math, even if you have to count your fingers like I do. 2 + 2 = 4, I live in a small South Georgia town, so while there is an unprecedented amount of churches for the small population of this town, there aren’t a ton of churches or a ton of anything for that matter… except maybe a ton of gnats…
In all seriousness though, if the AA meetings I’m attending are held at a large Baptist church, and there is a Red Cross blood drive being held at a large Baptist church… the chances that they’re using the same church are pretty high, wouldn’t you think?
You’d be right! I had somehow missed the announcement on the Red Cross app I had so intelligently installed on my phone, but luckily for me I was leaving a noon AA meeting (drunk of course) when I saw the little signs directing people into a different area of the church to donate.
Ahh, my higher power doing for me what I couldn’t do for myself! (It’s a joke relax)
I proceeded to sip on my Mad-Dog 20/20, conveniently disguised in a 32oz Gatorade bottle, as I approached the entryway for the donation room. Waiting to get put into the system and begin the screening process, I sat ever so patiently, trying not to nod off into a drunken slumber.
Finally, I was called back behind one of the privacy screens to begin moving forward with paperwork and health screens, a normal part of the donation process. The nurse did the little finger stick to test my iron, and we waited a few moments for the result.
To this day I don’t know if she received a notification on her computer, or if she smelled the alcohol on my breath, but she politely, but quickly, informed me that I would not be eligible to donate today. She thanked me for coming, apologized for the inconvenience, and encouraged me to grab juice and cookies on my way out.
Confused, but too intoxicated to be upset about it, I went on my merry way. I didn’t ever really give much thought to it again. Until…
One day I received a letter in my campus mailbox. Care to venture a guess who from? If you guessed the letter was from the American National Red Cross, you’d be correct! I kept the letter for a while, but somehow over the years, and many moves, it has been lost.
However, to the best of my recollection, the meat and potatoes of the letter essentially said that due to a high BAC level in multiple donations that I made, all former donations of blood have been rendered unusable for lifesaving practices, and that moving forward I would be prohibited from donating blood at any and all American National Red Cross blood drives, until further notice.
Yes… I was blacklisted from the Red Cross…
I don’t tell this story for bragging rights, nor do I wear it as some sort of twisted badge of honor. I tell this story because we alcoholics do some pretty outrageous things in addictive addiction.
Some of us lie to our partners, parents, and children. Some of us lie, steal, cheat, and hurt total strangers. Others of us abandon our loved ones, causing irreparable damage, or maybe run away because it hurts us too much to watch ourselves hurt the ones we love. Active addiction brings out the worst in alcoholics and addicts. Like the opposite of the 9th step promises of AA, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, but we’ll always hurt someone eventually.
It’s not that it’s okay that we hurt people (directly or indirectly). It’s not okay that we put loved ones, friends, family members, and strangers at risk or in harm’s way. It’s not okay that we were absent, violent, aggressive, or pathetic, day in and day out, throughout are addictions. No one is saying that those things are okay, but we don’t have to keep hurting ourselves, for the decisions we made in active addiction, by staying in it.
It is okay to move forward, to heal, make amends, and start a new journey in recovery. It’s okay to look back and tell a cringe story while laughing so hard you cry. It’s okay to smile and put your recovery first. It’s okay that you’re becoming a totally different version of yourself. It’s okay to enjoy life and even be happy when possible.
It’s not so much that alcoholics and addicts deserve to be happy and enjoy life. More so that through a gradual, and sometimes painful healing process, we earn the right to exist without the pain and suffering we inflicted upon ourselves at the hands of the disease of addiction.
So, sure (with discretion) tell your war stories and your drunk-a-logs. Be unashamed of the past you managed to survive. Learn to laugh at all the horrible things you did that make the jaws of non-alcoholics hit the floor in shock and wonder.
Learn to love yourself, treat others better, and navigate your way through life where your problems no longer have to be washed under a tidal wave of liquid courage. Most of all, learn if you are willing enough to join this way of life—A Life in Sobriety.
If you’re reading this as a non-alcoholic, and you’re confident of your status in that classification: I’m glad you stuck around, I hope you’re not too traumatized, and I do sincerely hope you continue to hang out with us.
But, if you are unsure of whether any of this applies to you, perhaps wondering if you might be one of us after all, consider this:
You don’t have to be Black Listed by the Red Cross, to be an alcoholic….
Thanks for reading! Please like, share, and comment below!
