I had a mystery illness in January and I’ve been dying to know if it was COVID-19. Did you know the American Red Cross will give you a free COVID antibody test if you donate blood?

I didn’t.

For me that was simultaneously great and terrible news.

Here’s the problem, I have an aversion to needles, I faint when one hits me just the right way. Flu shots can put me on the floor. However, reading about the need for blood … er … the free COVID antibody test, I decided I needed to go in and donate.

The last time I donated blood was in late February of 1989. I remember it vividly. I had to skip the second day of baseball practice because I was woozy and had a hard time walking straight, let alone trying to hit a tiny little ball. It turns out the American Red Cross had my old blood donation record when I went to sign in for my appointment in Pendleton on Monday, Aug. 10.

I was very pleasantly surprised, quite frankly, but things went downhill quickly.

The phlebotomist came and took me to her workstation. She brought up my computerized record, and there was a note, “MD approval required.” She thought it was kind of strange and asked her supervisor. Her supervisor told her I wouldn’t be donating blood that day. I would need to call an 800 number to clear my record and be able to donate.

As you know, Pendleton is a small town. I knew all three of the nice volunteer ladies at the door and they remarked how quickly I completed the process, to which I replied that I hadn’t made it past the interview stage. They asked me if I had ever donated before and I said yes, back in 1989.

“You were in high school in 1989,” one of the ladies replied. “That’s odd. Did you have low iron, or were you a naughty boy in high school?”

While I do have a good memory, I don’t think I had low iron or anything else wrong with me back then, and I wasn’t naughty, despite wanting very badly to be.

I called the 800 number provided to me and talked to a very nice lady.

“Can you spell that last name for me? What was your address in 1989? This is strange, you said your last donation was in 1989. What about a donation in 1995?”

We went a little further in the conversation and she stated there was an incomplete record of a donation in 1995. She said she would need to transfer me to another person, to whom I confirmed my identity, and we went through the story again. I donated blood once before. It was my senior year of high school in 1989. I did not donate in 1995. She stated she didn’t know if she could help me become a donor, “because of your blood being positive for a bloodborne pathogen in 1995.”

And it wasn’t just any bloodborne pathogen. In 1995, this particular one was a death sentence.

Well that one hit me square in the nose. I couldn’t think straight for a minute. Then I realized it was preposterous. My mind raced. In 2000, I had a bad bout with mononucleosis that didn’t show up the first time I was tested. The second round of tests the doctor told me specifically he was going to add a test for a really bad bloodborne pathogen (along with everything else under the sun) and needed my consent, to which I replied it was fine. Everything came back negative except mono, which was bad enough. So, as of the year 2000, I know I was free of the worst of the worst bloodborne pathogens.

All of this went through my head in a flash. Then, I did some quick math. I pointed out to the lady on the phone I was living and breathing free of some strange cocktail of drugs more than 31 years after my last blood donation. She said, yes, she was aware of that anomaly. We both agreed there was an error in the system, but my blood donation days were probably over. She said she would follow up with me.

When I got home I shared the story with my family and they howled with delight. My wife and kids knew how much I detested needles, and how I psyched myself up for my blood donation. My siblings both said, “This could only happen to you, Corey.” My mother said she would certainly remember if she received anything from the American Red Cross regarding my blood donation.

The second lady I talked to at the 800 number followed up with me the other day. She asked if I could find the letter the Red Cross sent to me after my donation, back in 1989 or 1995, she wasn’t sure when it would have been sent. I responded that I specifically asked my mother if she remembered me receiving anything back in 1989, and she did not.

“Corey, if the Red Cross informed me you had tested positive for a bloodborne pathogen back in the ‘90s, I think I would have remembered,” she told me.

According to the lady on the phone, without the notification of my test results from 1989 or 1995, not sure which, there’s no way I would be allowed to donate blood. I thanked her for following up with me, and I told her again how disappointed I was. I had been absolved of my blood donation guilt, but I was not getting my free COVID test. The second point was the thing that really upset me.

Thankfully, I contacted the head of our local American Red Cross. She was able to make someone realize that bureaucracy shouldn’t preclude someone from getting a free COVID test — I mean donating blood.