I can never know who they might be out there. The people who took the time out of their lives to drive to the Red Cross station, perhaps the one down the street from Stanford Hospital, or who maybe gave at a blood drive at the office. Or wherever. But there are seven people out there who gave of themselves and their time and let someone stick a needle in them simply to help out some stranger in the world whom they could never know just because it felt like the right thing to do and, while not all are eligible, they were and this was something they could do.
And I am alive writing these words because they donated their blood. I not only had that surgery, I’d lost half my blood volume to my bleeding colon beforehand.
One relative of mine told me she’d been interested in donating but had always figured that as an AB+, the universal recipient, hers wasn’t really of much value.
While I was in pre-op, part of the preparation for surgery was my being infused with a large bag of plasma. I rather freaked when I saw the bag typed as AB+; I’m A+, and promptly informed the nurse of that, quite worried. She reassured me that with plasma products anything I might react to had been removed and that that bag was perfectly fine for me to use.
I know there is controversy over some of the Red Cross rules. I know not all can donate. But to those who can, and who do, please know I can never tell you how grateful I am except by trying to put more good out into the world the ways that I can, too, as a thank you. I will try my best.