I try to give blood as often as I can. According to the Red Cross, my blood is not only one of the most needed, but it also has a rare characteristic. I can’t explain it, but it has something or lacks something that makes it critical for children. I’ve tried to understand, but I don’t remember what it is any more than what my blood pressure means. I’m a mathematician, but those numbers go by me.

I especially try to give blood when the Red Cross comes to the university where I work. It’s hard for me to get away to go somewhere else, but I can just schedule my appointment during my lunch break and slip over there. I usually have pleasant conversations with those working there.

“Did you understand everything in the questionnaire?” the lady asked while checking me in at the drive.

“I haven’t heard of half of the diseases it asked about,” I replied.

“That’s good,” she said. “That means you haven’t had them.”

As she poked my finger to test my iron level, she said, “Soon, we will have a machine where we can measure this without even poking your finger.”

“What I want is for them to create a machine that will take my blood without me having to have a needle in my arm,” I said.

The lady laughed. “That might be a while.”

“I think they have one on Star Trek,” I replied.

She nodded. “Some of those science fiction gadgets would be great, wouldn’t they?”

“I think there might be a downside,” I said. “If they made it so easy you didn’t feel anything, what would stop somebody from setting a machine up on the street and taking people’s blood as they walked by without them knowing it?”

The lady smiled. “That’s an interesting thought.”

They got the needle in my arm, and it wasn’t too long before I was done. I pressed the cotton against the wound on my arm, and then the lady looked at it. “It isn’t bleeding at all. Do you still want the red wrap around it?”

“Of course,” I replied. “How else can I make people feel sorry for me?”

She laughed. “Is that the reason you come to give blood?”

“Well, that and the cookies,” I replied. “But it’s a darn hard way to get a cookie.”

One thing about giving blood at a college is there is usually the enticement of pizza. After a little food, snacks, and juice, it was time for me to head to class.

As I was preparing everything for class, a girl asked, “What’s the bandage on your arm?”

“It’s my red badge of courage,” I replied.

“Your what?” she asked.

“My red badge of courage,” I answered. I could tell she was unfamiliar with that book, so I continued. “I gave blood today, and I hate needles, so I call it my red badge of courage.”

“What would ever make you want to give blood?” a boy asked. “They don’t pay you any money, do they?”

“No,” I replied. “But I get something better.” I explained about my blood being used for children. “I understand that most people who can give blood for children lose that ability somewhere in their mid-twenties. But I’ve been able to do it since I was a teenager. I like to think of it helping some child.”

“Well, they’d have to have something really good to get me to do it,” the boy said.

“They had a lot of wonderful pizza,” I said.

The boy looked at his friend in the seat next to him. “How about we head over right after class and see if they have an opening?” The friend nodded.

I laughed. “And don’t forget to get your red badge of courage while you’re at it.”