I hold tremendous respect for all who are willing to enter the field of medicine, especially since I am in no way cut out for such a career. I trust in medical research, listen to the advice of doctors and, generally speaking, try to stay informed about medical trends.
To be clear: I do not find illness or disease funny. I am guilty, however, of one small lapse: during the years since my beloved was barred from donating blood and platelets due to the off-chance that he was at greater risk for contracting CJD, or Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, I may have bullied him with cow noises from time to time. Mad cow noises. I am not proud of this.
Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease (known more commonly as “mad cow disease”) is no laughing matter. It is a human prion disease which can strike someone in a few ways, all of which are extremely rare but exceedingly awful. Familial CJD is inherited; Sporadic CJD can occur when a person has been exposed to infected tissue through a medical procedure such as a cornea transplant; Variant CJD is suspected to be caused by eating diseased meat – cattle who are known to have bovine spongiform encephalopathy, or BSE, are the likely culprits.
All forms of CJD are always devastating and always fatal. Normal human prion protein in the brain basically transforms into a dementia-inducing, progressively destructive force.
Because of an outbreak in BSE and vCJD, which peaked at nearly 15,000 cases in the United Kingdom in 1995, anyone who had lived in Europe in the 1980s or 1990s was barred from donating blood in the mid-1990s. This affected a fairly significant amount of people, especially those from military families assigned overseas during that time.
It was a terrible disappointment to my husband, a faithful donor of platelets. However, the medical world declared safe was better than sorry. And that is why I would occasionally remind him of my sacrifice for tolerating his “condition” by mooing at him.
Apologies to those who have already heard this part of the story: a few weeks ago, one of our daughters was carefully completing a family medical history chart in her health class at school. She was tasked with listing potential health risks or known disease occurrences so she would be better informed about her own health in the future. She thoughtfully considered her list; remembering that her father suffered from mad cow disease, she added it before turning it in. Her teacher had a good laugh, explaining that it was pretty unlikely this was the case.
Her mother, on the other hand, was reminded of an important lesson: be careful what immature mad cow jokes you allow to creep into official family medical history, because children are listening all the time. After the initial facepalm this induced, we had a good laugh. Of course, mad cow disease isn’t funny. Except just once in a while, when it is.
Out of all this ridiculousness, some redemption: a few days later, I went online to check the current status of blood donation restrictions in the U.S. and discovered that in July 2020, the FDA had partially lifted the vCJD risk factor status, along with a few other previous restrictions. Donors previously deferred for time spent in European countries (more than three months in the UK, Isle of Man, Channel Islands, Gibraltar or the Falkland Islands will still keep you sidelined) or previously deferred for time spent on U.S. military bases in Europe are no longer permanently barred from donation due to the extremely low risk for transmission of vCJD. This might mean you, dear reader, are now permitted to donate blood, too.
I paid a visit this past week to Vitalant, Cheyenne’s blood donation center, to ask what their biggest needs are right now; the answer is everything. While platelets are most desperately needed, all types of donations – whole blood, double red cell, plasma and platelets – are all in short supply. The recent winter storms in the southern United States further disrupted the blood component supply chain, creating critical shortages across the country.
Strong COVID-19 protocols are in place, making an already safe procedure just as safe as ever. The good it can do for patients suffering from trauma, rare disease or cancer is staggering – yet only 10% of the eligible population ever donates.
Let’s change this, Cheyenne. Visit bit.ly/donatebloodcheyenne to find out how you can help. One whole blood donation alone can save up to three lives – and all it costs is an hour. Whether you’re new to the blood donation scene or suddenly allowed to return, your willingness to help will be celebrated with a ripple effect for generations.
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Elizabeth Dillow is a writer, photographer, and graphic designer in Cheyenne. She will readily admit to being a little afraid of donating blood but has decided to get over it and hopes you’ll join her. She can be reached at edillow@mac.com.