Two weeks from today, I'm heading up to my brother's church in Williamsport, PA, for a fall festival. There'll be lots of fun things to do, and one thing that isn't so fun, but that is necessary. During the festival, the Red Cross will be taking donations. Blood donations. As a life-long needle-phobic, I'm feeling a little queasy thinking about it. As a recipient of five units of blood, I'm signed up to give.
During my college years, I gave blood five times. It never occurred to me that I might one day need that blood back. Fast forward to my daughter's birth, me in surgery with placenta previa, my head swimming as the blood poured from my body, my mind groggily coming to the conclusion that I could very well die.
Sound dramatic? It was. I'm not exaggerating the situation. You can check with my husband who has told me that he walked back into the room (after making sure our pre-term daughter was okay)and saw what looked like a war zone. Blood everywhere. Thanks to selfless donors, blood was available to replace what I'd lost. Five pints given. Five pints taken. Now it's my turn to give again.
Perhaps this seems like a morbid post. It is. It's also a scenario that plays out every day. Lives saved because people like you are willing to face the needles, the time crunch, the inconvenience. A half hour and a pint of your blood can save a life. I know it. I lived it.
Give. Because someone needs you to. Because one day you might need what you've so selflessly offered. Because someone you love might.
Give because it's the right thing to do. Because it matters. Because it will make a difference.
If you're in Williamsport in two weeks, I'll even hold your hand while you do it (after I've given and they've scraped me up off the pavement).
If not, you can find a blood donation center here - www.givelife.org or 1-800-GIVE-LIFE .