City Matters: Man with autism wants to donate blood to the Red Cross, but they won't let him

May 16—AS A YOUNG MAN WITH autism, Eliot Webster faces all sorts of limitations in his life related to things that most of us take for granted.

He can volunteer at community organizations but can't hold a job.

He can go to the gym, but only with a caretaker by his side.

And he can go to the doctor and have an operation, but the 31-year-old can't donate blood.

Two years ago, the American Red Cross refused to let Eliot donate.

Although he is healthy, lives a low-risk lifestyle and would be happy to donate, he can't fill out the form by himself. That makes him ineligible.

If you've donated before, you know the form — have you had sex with another man, are you an IV drug user, do you patronize prostitutes, do you have Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, have you traveled to Madagascar and dozens of other faraway places.

Even though his mom, Elizabeth Webster, knows everything about Eliot and is his legal guardian, Eliot has to answer the questions himself, alone, outside of earshot of her, according to the Red Cross.

The organization did not agree to an interview. But in the best of bureaucratic fashion, the Red Cross sent me an email that insists it's really good ("each individual is treated with... dignity and respect") and the federal government is to blame ("the FDA requires that all donors be able to reliably answer the questions asked in the standardized questionnaire").

It's not like the FDA and Red Cross have never changed their guidelines. Two years ago, they loosened a prohibition for gay men. Gay men can now donate if they have not had sex for three months.

For two years, Elizabeth Webster, an autism specialist and consultant here in Manchester, has been fighting the Red Cross on the issue.

She said the Red Cross is violating the Americans with Disabilities Act by not making a reasonable accommodation for her son.

She's got a good argument but also has gotten the runaround.

The Disabilities Rights Center encouraged her to file a complaint with the New Hampshire Human Rights Commission, which she said would likely take two years and end up with nothing but a letter.

The Civil Rights Division of the U.S. Justice Department said sorry, they don't have the resources to pursue all of the thousands of complaints they receive.

With the help of New Hampshire state Sen. Becky Whitley, she scheduled a Zoom meeting with Red Cross officials in Washington. They canceled at the last minute and refused further discussion.

Her best hope so far is the U.S. Food and Drug Administration. Her complaint is under review, according to a March email she shared with me.

Webster said she doesn't want to sue because of the money and energy it takes. But I think a lawyer would have a field day with this issue. For example, the Red Cross online list of eligibility criteria ranges from acupuncture to Zika virus, but does not include a single mention of intellectual ability.

"Eliot gets a tremendous amount of support from the community at large. It's hard to find ways to give back, and this would be a wonderful opportunity," Webster said.

She said Eliot has an IQ of about 70. He has communication challenges, and would find it impossible to answer some questions, like questions pertaining to blood transfusions in the United Kingdom from 1980 going forward. But she said she could answer them.

"Blood donors need to be able to respond to the blood donation screening questions without assistance from others (except in the case of blind donors and donors who do not read, write or speak English)," wrote Dr. Jorge Rios, the medical director of the Massachusetts and Northern New England Red Cross in a 2020 email she shared with me.

"Moreover, the donors need to have a sufficient intellectual capacity to be able to sign the informed consent attestations ... and that attestation cannot be delegated to others," the email continued.

It's not only Eliot who's missing out. There are likely thousands across the country.

Kingston resident Paul Butler has a 29-year-old autistic son, Brendan. For 12 years Brendan has accompanied his father to his regular blood donations.

Brendan had videotaped some of the visits. He charts the eight-week time between donations. Anything medical fascinates him, his father tells me. But he can't donate himself.

"He would do it every eight weeks. He'd be running up there. He'd be in heaven," said Butler, director of the Kingston Recreation Department. Like Webster, he is his son's guardian and should be able to answer the questionnaire on his behalf, he said.

"That's what I don't get," he said.

I ask Eliot about his volunteer responsibilities — he currently volunteers at Meals on Wheels — and he tells what his tasks are.

But a more complicated question — why does he want to donate? — prompts him to look to Webster, who starts to mouth out his answer.

"It's a good way to give something back," he said, "and they give me a snack at the end."