O Positive

 

I come from a family of blood donors. My paternal grandmother, “Mom”, gave blood back in the day. She was a tiny woman who, once I was fully grown at 5’4”, could walk under my outstretched arm. She was too small to give a pint, so they always let her give a half pint. Following in her footsteps, my dad was a donor as was my sister.

My first experience attending a blood drive was in high school when a carload of us were allowed to go to a nearby church and participate. I was scared, sure, and refused to watch when they inserted the needle, but performed valiantly, unlike a bruiser of a classmate, who turned green. (No, really, I thought it was just a saying, but this guy looked like the inside of an avocado.)

At UNC, I gave blood at the Student Union. After completing my first pint there, I wandered to the snack table. I can see myself now, a young freshman, close clipped curly hair, a white sundress, a far different me than I am now. Two young men joined me at the table, one on either side. Unfortunately, the bandage on my arm was poorly adhered and it sagged open, allowing blood to drip down my arm and onto my white dress. I gave off horror movie vibes, but a nurse quickly intervened. My fix was quick, just a new dressing, but the guy next to me had to be led to a cot to prevent him from passing out after he witnessing Carrie come to life.  The other guy rested his head on the table. I was fine. 

Jack and Jackie - Blood Donors - my Freshman year at UNC

I continued to donate, over the years, including my time at IBM, where those who were interested, were taken by the Red Cross to an offsite facility to give regularly. During this time I became fast friends with a guy about my age named Eric Woods, from Stokes County. Eric, brilliant and hilarious, was what would today be called my work husband. We took our breaks together and when I had an overnight testing shift, he arranged to work with me so I’d not be alone. He and Earle got along famously and we found that Eric’s barber father had been the first person to cut Earle’s hair as a child, when Earle came to visit his grandmother in Stokes County from his home in New York.  Eric suffered from miserable headaches, and I was shocked and saddened when it was found he had a brain tumor. He underwent surgery and despite the surgeon’s best efforts, and many pints of blood, did not survive.

The real reason people give blood became painfully personal. Before, it had simply been an act of service but now it transmuted into a deliberate action done specifically in memory of my friend. Over the years, I’ve tried to give whenever I am able. Sometimes years pass before I can get in to donate a pint, but when I do it’s a special time to reflect on my friend  who left us far too soon.

In the fall of 2018, my precious Mom experienced a health crisis. She awoke one day with low blood pressure and the rescue squad took her to the ER. Ultimately it was found she experienced a massive GI bleed. I had been told that a procedure to repair the bleed by interventional radiology was a longshot, especially at her age. The procedure went as planned and she miraculously survived, but during her time at Duke she needed 5 units of blood! The human body only has 8-10. The people who donated that blood literally saved my mom’s life! Their gift gave Mom over 5 more years to love and be loved. I couldn’t be more grateful.

My church, Elizabeth Street United Methodist Church in Durham, is hosting a blood drive this Friday from Noon to 5. I’m booked for 12:15 and am eager to share the gift of life. Whether, here, there, Friday or in the future, please consider donating the gift of life!