Donating blood is something that many people blanch at when brought up in conversation. For most, it has to do with a fear of needles or an issue with blood itself. There are those of us like myself, however, who are frequent donors. Any person is eligible to donate blood at the age of 16, with the consent of a parent. The Red Cross allows a person to donate every eight weeks. There are other factors like a height-to-weight ratio and medical conditions that limit eligibility, but most people are capable of donating.
I can’t say when I first thought about donating blood, but I know that every time my high school held a blood drive I was chomping at the bit to go and give my pint. Once I turned 16, I somehow convinced my mother to sign the form and I donated for the first time. I will be honest and say that I was nervous and I came close to passing out. Looking back, my nerves were probably the main source of the near incident.
Since then, I have donated approximately 20 times. That’s not even as many times as I could have given, and I wish I had given more by now. I know it sounds crazy because 20 times is a lot, but most first time donors never give again. Out of the many eligible people, most don’t donate ever.
As I’m sure it is blatantly obvious at this point, this is something that I hold near and dear to my heart. It comes from my innate desire to help people and see them succeed, but mostly I do it for my grandmother.
When I was a child, somewhere around three and four years old, my grandmother became ill with a disease called myelofibrosis, a form of leukemia. It causes a disorder in production of normal blood cells by the bone marrow via scarring. There are many complications associated with the disease like anemia, fatigue, weakness and more.
My grandmother was a fighter and didn’t take anything from anyone. She would correct people and tell them she was Mrs. Forrest as not just anyone could use her first name. She was a spit fire. As much as I’m sure she fought her hardest, you can’t just sit down and say, “You’ve overstayed your welcome, and I’m done with you, disease. Good day.” That’s not the way it works as much as we may all wish it did. She was sick no matter her resolve.
One treatment that eases symptoms like anemia and fatigue, is blood transfusions. Most of the time it is best to get a transfusion, or any kind of transplant for that matter, from a family member. This involves a lot of genetic information, but basically there needs to be a match for blood type. We all learn that in middle school science class. I’m the only match in my family for my grandmother’s blood type and remember, I was three or four. Definitely not the age for giving blood.
It truly hurts to know that I was too young to help her. Thankfully, there was someone out there who did. I will forever be grateful to a stranger for being willing to give some of their blood to another. He or she will probably never know who received their blood—that’s not something you get to know. They will never know that their gift allowed me and my family to have my grandmother for a little longer.
So I give for my grandmother. I give now because I couldn’t then. I give so that some other little girl doesn’t have to lose her grandmother too soon like I did. I give so that she can have memories with her and so that she can know her personally.
I give for the random accidents that cause pain and suffering. I do it for the patients in surgery who are losing blood too quickly. I do it to make a difference in someone’s life. There isn’t anything in it but the satisfaction of knowing you’re helping someone. One pint has the potential to save three lives. Three lives. One pint, one hour and some discomfort saves lives.
Yes the needle hurts some when they stick your finger and your arm. Yes things happen that are out of your control. I once got something called a hematoma, a swelling of blood, in my arm. It left a giant bruise and was sore for several days. It leaves you tired for a day or two. These things make some people nervous. My mom worries every time I tell her I’m donating because she knows the different experiences I have had. She lets go though because she knows how much I care about it and that I’m her stubborn daughter who is going to do it anyway.
There are discomforts. The reward is bigger than the discomforts or the small risks. My 20 donations could have saved up to 60 people. That’s good enough for me. So I ask that you consider it. I know that for some it’s not something you can do and that’s okay, but even one donation in your life would do so much good.
As for me, I’m looking at giving my next pint in the next few days.
