Afraid of Needles, But I Still Donated Blood

There was a time when I was afraid of needles.

I suspect many people are, even if they never say it out loud. The moment a needle comes into view, the body tenses. The mind starts racing. For some, that fear alone is enough to stop them from ever considering blood donation.

I understand that feeling.

Even today, I can still remember that discomfort from my younger days. During my army years, I was exposed to needle-related training under supervision, though I cannot confidently verify the exact details now. What I remember clearly was the feeling , the hesitation, the tension, and the quiet mental battle that comes with it.

Later in life, when I was working in the biomedical industry, I had the opportunity to service accounts connected to Singapore’s healthcare and biomedical ecosystem, including SGH, HSA, National Cancer Centre, the TB Lab, and National Heart Centre. The SGH campus has changed greatly over the years. National Heart Centre is now in a newer building too. I still remember the days when I used to frequent the old National Cancer Centre and meet researchers at the lab. I also remember the TB Lab being located on a more secluded piece of land near the old colonial Ministry of Health site. To enter, I had to gown up in basic safety level 3 protective wear, with covered shoes and the proper precautions. What stayed with me was how serious and tightly controlled the environment felt. There was constant testing taking place in the lab, and I remember the BACTEC machines always appearing full, operating around the clock. Perhaps that is why, in my mind, it almost felt like stepping into a highly secured space lab built to test for aliens, a light-hearted thought, yes, but one shaped by the intensity of the place.

Those memories stayed with me.

They gave me a deeper respect not only for doctors and nurses, but also for the researchers, technicians, lab staff, and healthcare teams working quietly behind the scenes to support patient care every single day.

Perhaps that is also why blood donation feels meaningful to me today.

Because I have seen, in my own way, how much healthcare depends on systems, people, and the willingness of others to step forward.

And that is what blood donation really is.

It is not just about a needle.
It is not just about a chair, a tube, or a bag of blood.
It is about one person making a choice that may help another person live.

In Singapore, blood is needed every single day for emergencies, major surgeries, and patients with conditions such as leukaemia, thalassaemia, and bleeding disorders. HSA says about 400 units are needed daily, and its blood facts page states that in 2026, around 14 units are required every hour, or 328 units a day.

When we think about it that way, blood donation becomes something much bigger than personal fear.

A few moments of discomfort for the donor may become relief for a family, support for a patient in treatment, or even a second chance at life for someone in crisis.

That is why I feel this belongs under the theme of active ageing.

Active ageing is not only about exercise, diet, mobility, and living longer. It is also about staying useful, staying engaged, and finding ways to contribute meaningfully to society while we still can. Blood donation, for those who are eligible, is one simple but powerful way of doing exactly that.

Many people also do not realise that blood donation involves a proper screening process before the donation itself. In Singapore, this includes a health questionnaire, a finger-prick haemoglobin check, and checks on weight, blood pressure, pulse, and temperature, together with a review of medical, travel, and social history to make sure donation is safe for both donor and recipient.

That does not mean blood donation is a substitute for a full medical check-up.

It is not.

But it does remind people that health matters. It nudges awareness. It encourages responsibility. It makes some people more conscious of their body, their habits, and whether they are actually well enough to give.

There is also something reassuring about knowing that donated blood is handled with care. In Singapore, every donated unit is tested for infections such as HIV, hepatitis B, hepatitis C, hepatitis E, and syphilis. Selected units or components may also be tested for malaria or bacterial contamination where needed.

So blood donation is not casual.

It is organised.
It is screened.
It is purposeful.

And maybe that is why it deserves more awareness.

Too many people only think about blood when someone they love suddenly needs it.

But a stable blood supply does not appear by itself. It exists because ordinary people, day after day, choose to come forward.

Some do it because they believe in giving back.
Some do it because they know someone who once needed blood.
Some do it quietly, without fanfare, simply because they can.

That, to me, is a powerful form of social responsibility.

I also think we should be honest about fear.

Not everyone is ready.
Not everyone likes needles.
Not everyone will feel brave.

That is perfectly human.

Awareness should not shame people. It should help them understand. It should show them that fear is normal, but also that blood donation has a real purpose beyond that fear.

For me, the deeper reflection is this:

As we grow older, we begin to see life differently. We become more aware of illness, vulnerability, hospitals, treatment, and how fragile health can be. We also begin to understand that being healthy is not only about ourselves. Sometimes, good health gives us an opportunity to do something for someone else.

And when that happens, even a small act can carry great meaning.

You sit for a while.
You go through screening.
You donate.
You rest.
Then you go home and continue with your day.

But somewhere down the line, what you gave may become part of someone else’s healing, treatment, or survival.

That is not a small thing.

So yes, I believe blood donation deserves more awareness.

Not because everyone must do it.
Not because people should be pressured.
But because more people should understand what it truly means.

It is an act of care.
It is an act of contribution.
It is an act of purpose.

And sometimes, in a world where many people wonder how they can make a difference, blood donation is one of the clearest answers:

You may not know the person.
You may never meet them.
But your donation may still help save their life.

That is reason enough to respect it.
And for those who are eligible, perhaps even reason enough to overcome the fear.