It's not blood money

There was a time when a RedEye reporter would wander into the plasma center on Highland Road, roll up a sleeve and walk out with $20 or $25. That was enough for a night of beers at The Bengal, just down the same road.

In college, there's no shame in it. You're cashing in on something your body makes on its own, and you hardly have to lift a finger.

Why it matters: The plasma business is big and getting bigger, and for good reason. The stuff is liquid gold for treating severe trauma, burns, shock and bleeding disorders like hemophilia. And the cash, it turns out, does real good for the people who give it.

The basics: Plasma is the yellow liquid that makes up about half of your blood. About 8% of it is proteins, hormones, salts and nutrients. It's the current that carries blood cells, antibodies and platelets to wherever the body needs them.

Yes, but: Plasma-for-money has been demonized for so long that the industry barely mentions the money. BioLife, which has a center in St. George, leads with the "meaningful difference" donations make for people who depend on plasma-based treatments.

• The cash is there, too, but not a direct amount per plasma sale. BioLife says donors can earn up to $800 a month. With gasoline prices as high as they are, that pitch is pulling more people through the doors nationwide.

The case for selling: A 2024 study in the Review of Financial Studies found that when a plasma center opens, payday and installment loan inquiries among young adults fall by more than 13%. That's about the same local effect on payday borrowing as a $1 bump in the minimum wage.

• Another study found that a new plasma center brings a city's overall crime rate down by roughly 12%, mostly in property and drug offenses. Researchers credit two things: a legal paycheck for donors and the drug screening donors must pass to donate plasma.

The bottom line: Plasma money helps the poor and the working poor, and, we'd wager, more than a few college students. Nothing to be ashamed of.