Every now and then, I crank up my courage and take myself over to the Community Blood Center. Just did. In fact, the latest donation was something of a milestone: a lifetime contribution of twenty gallons of blood. Yeah, yeah. Bragging rights? Many people have achieved that measure, including those who have given gallons as platelets, an extraction from whole blood used for many modern healing procedures. Science has yet to create a substitute for human blood.
Whatever the type of donation, it requires a certain sangfroid to allow some tech you’ve never met to (trigger alert!) stick a big needle in your arm and fill up a baggie with a pound or so of flesh, the fundamental fluid of your life.
Although there is Biblical precedent for bargaining with God, I don’t think making deals with the Giver of Everything is the way to go. However, I’ve expressed gratitude again and again that I have escaped, my whole life so far, being the recipient instead of the donor. I was particularly stunned with importance when I found out that my O-negative blood type is vital for saving newborns. They use a special “baby bag” for what my body delivers—a lot simpler, come to think of it, than giving birth. But I digress…
I was prompted this time by the patriotic exuberance and solemn dignity of the Memorial Day Celebration at the Station—an annual event in Kansas City, featuring the KC Symphony. Yes, it’s fun and neighborly to crowd the grounds of the train station and the inspiring World War I Memorial and Museum, to wave little flags, to hear tributes to those who have served, and thrill to the boom of the cannon and flash of the fireworks.
In truth, this glory in war is gruesome. Always was, always will be.
However, if the shedding of blood for the sake of humanity has some visceral, symbolic appeal you’d like to experience, there’s a way to do it without dying. Awhile back, I wrote an irreverent poem, which I put in my book Windshift. In my theology, all humanity, every one of us, is the embodiment of God’s spirit. We can all aim to be Jesus in one way or another.
“DONOR” NOBIS PACEM
I’ve shed more blood than Jesus.
There’s really nothing to it.
From time to time, I’ve saved a soul
and didn’t die to do it.
I haven’t got a golden crown
for gallons I have given,
no promise of eternal life,
no glory ride to heaven,
no mystic explanation,
no complicated creed.
A bag of hemoglobin
fulfills the human need.
O beautiful the bleeding heart,
O-negative the way
that leads to the salvation
of someone’s child today.
My body manufactures cells
that oxidize like rust.
O Lord replenish them, I pray,
until I turn to dust.
I believe that the healing of the world is meant to be spiritual and medical, not military. I give my blood gladly to that hope.
You are a hero. I do not let unnecessary needles into my veins. Not for nobody. Not nohow.
I am proud of you and so pleased to know people like you. I have recently heard that there is a blood shortage. I am so glad you were able to help.
I’ve long been proud of your blood donations. My mother often donated, so in college I was inspired to go off with a boyfriend (future doc) to give as well. Alas, I was told by the nurse that I was below the minimum weight standard. I was flummoxed. “But my mother gives blood regularly, and she weighs much less than I.” It turned out that they bent the rule for Mama because she had the very rare AB-, but they only drew half the standard amount.
You’re about 19 gallons ahead of me, Barbara. I didn’t donate for a long time because, as a teen and young adult, I was told not to because of some anemia. From there, sad to say, until a year or two ago, I just let it slide, though now my doc says I should donate no more than once every four months. So I may never catch up with you. Like all writers, I’m also, uh, typo. But I’m O-positive.
I, too, thank you. As one who has been ineligible since the age of four to donate, I have always considered it my duty to facilitate donation within my family. Making time is not always easy. I know it gives some the shivers, but it is a true giving of the self.
THANK YOU, BARBARA, for your gift.
To everyone, please give as long as you are able. If you tend to be a bit anemic, take an iron pill on the day or two before you go to give – you’ll be fine.
Giving plasma is just about the same…it just takes a bit longer, so you have time to read a complete chapter.
You will feel good!