“I Didn’t Think My Blood Could Save Anyone.” — Ama’s Story
Ama had walked past NHS blood donation posters for years. It wasn’t until her cousin was hospitalised with a sickle cell crisis that she finally rolled up her sleeve — and everything changed.
I’d seen the posters for years. Give blood. Save lives. And every time I walked past them, I thought — yes, someone should do that. But that someone was never me.
Then my cousin Kwame went into hospital. A sickle cell crisis — the third one that year. He was 24. The doctors told his mum they needed blood, and they needed it matched. They needed Ro subtype. They needed Black donors.
I didn’t even know what Ro blood was. I didn’t know that my blood — specifically my blood, because of my heritage — was ten times more likely to carry what Kwame needed than the blood of most people in this country. Nobody had ever told me that. Nobody had ever made it feel personal.
I registered the same night. I donated six weeks later. The nurse who took my blood was Nigerian. She talked to me the whole time. Told me about her own family’s experience with sickle cell. She made me feel like I belonged there.
I’ve donated four times since. Kwame is doing well. And every time I sit in that chair and squeeze that little ball, I think about how close I came to never knowing any of this mattered.
If nobody has told you yet: your blood is special. It is needed. And someone — right now, today — is waiting for it.
— Ama, 29, London
Inspired? Register as a donor or share your story.