Stepping into Grifols’ plasma donation centre on Gateway Boulevard in Edmonton feels a bit like walking into a sci-fi lab—bright lights and walls, immaculate equipment and staff in crisp white coats moving with precision.
I arrived for my first plasma donation with my heart pounding from a mix of curiosity and nerves—starting a media company, Westgate Sentinel, is expensive. I needed some quick cash. After a screening, I didn’t qualify. No matter; I’ll be back. The cause—and the compensation—make it worth another try.
Plasma donation isn’t the same as giving whole blood. Whole-blood collection removes red and white blood cells, platelets and plasma, and takes weeks to replenish. Plasma—the straw-coloured fluid that makes up about 55 per cent of blood—carries proteins and antibodies essential for immunity and clotting. At centres like this, apheresis technology separates the plasma and returns the rest to the donor.
The process is quicker, can be repeated often, and supports therapies for hemophilia, immune disorders and burn treatment. Donors typically leave feeling lighter, not depleted.
One employee—friendly, energized and chatty—offered a striking statistic: about 200 people walk into this single Edmonton centre every day.
Across Grifols’ four Alberta locations—two in Edmonton, one in Calgary and one in Red Deer—that adds up to roughly 800 visits daily. Assuming 25 operational days a month, that’s an estimated 20,000 donation visits province-wide.
Quiet financial pressure and e-Transfers help fuel a supply chain that supports people with serous medical problems.
Like blood, the plot thickens.
Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney's Brookfield Asset Management explored a takeover of Grifols beginning in mid-2024, when Brookfield and the Grifols founding family discussed a joint bid that valued the plasma-therapy company at about €6.45 billion, according to reporting by Reuters and Bloomberg.
Carney is former chairman of Brookfield.
Grifols’ board later rejected Brookfield’s non-binding offer, saying it undervalued the company, and the talks were terminated. Reports in late 2024 and early 2025 indicated Brookfield revisited the possibility of an acquisition, but no agreement was reached.
“We have been providing plasma therapeutics to Canadians for nearly 30 years,” Grifols said in a statement. “Since 2022, Grifols has acquired or opened 17 plasma donation centres across Canada. Our donor base has grown steadily as new centres have been established, and we continue to welcome new donors daily.”
Plasma donors come from “all walks of life,” the company said.
“We welcome students, working professionals, public service personnel and others through our doors each day,” the statement said. “Donors are committed to helping their fellow citizens with life-threatening illnesses who need plasma medicines. Many donors have an ongoing donation regimen in service of their communities and donate plasma over the long-term. Multiple studies (e.g., Balancing Donor Health and Plasma Collection: A Systematic Review of the Impact of Plasmapheresis Frequency – ScienceDirect) confirm that plasma donation does not negatively impact donor health and wellbeing.”
“Grifols is dedicated to improving people’s lives. Our leadership in essential plasma-derived medicines enable patients with rare and chronic diseases—sometimes life-threatening—to lead healthier lives. They often have no alternative treatments. Thanks to the generosity of Canadian donors who entrust their donations to us, we are producing lifesaving medicines made from plasma to meet the growing needs of Canadian patients.”
That generosity also provides income. Donors earn between $60 and $120 per visit—not a windfall, but enough to cover groceries, fuel or a bill in a pinch. As donation numbers rise, the question emerges: is a strained economy pushing more people into Grifols recliners?
The latest poverty numbers suggest trouble. Statistics Canada reported in May that the national poverty rate sits at 10.2 per cent under the Market Basket Measure—about 3.9 million people out of a population of 38.2 million. That’s up from 9.9 per cent in 2022, or 3.8 million people, as housing, food and essentials continue to climb. Early modelling for 2024 suggests the rate could reach 10.9 per cent, or roughly 4.2 million Canadians, though full data won’t be available until spring 2026.
Are Canadians and Albertans—students scraping by, workers padding paycheques—donating plasma out of goodwill, necessity or both?
Grifols insists motivation comes from altruism, and research supports the practice’s safety. But inside these white-coated plasma space ships, where futures drip into bags one arm at a time, the line between generosity and survival is thin.
