At Last

 

Today was a big day for me.

Seven years ago I was given a very large amount of blood during my time in the hospital after the motorcycle accident. It was given to me for several days. I’ve been trying to donate blood for years now because I feel a strong sense of appreciation for the donations made by others that benefited me seven years ago. Today was my fourth attempt to donate blood since then, and it would have been my last attempt if I had been unsuccessful. I spoke about this once before on this blog (here). In past attempts I’ve been turned down for low blood flow, thin veins, and a low iron level. I last attempted to donate this past November 29^th on the anniversary of the accident. It was a little disheartening when I was told that my iron level was too low to donate blood. I’ve been taking iron pills for the past 2 ½ months in an attempt to raise my iron to an acceptable level.

When my iron level was first tested today it registered at 11.9, which is short of the required 13.0 minimum level. They had me warm my hand with hot water and a warm compress for a while and I then registered at 13.0 even. I just made it to their minimum requirement, but I was happy. I felt such a sense of victory and elation when I laid down on the big padded cot thing that they use for donors. I kept hoping that the lady in charge of my donation would find an acceptable vein (she almost couldn’t), but when she did there was some bleeding under the skin at the site of the needle. She felt that it would lead to a bruise but I told her that I didn’t care because all that mattered to me was that I was actually donating blood.

I kept asking if the blood was flowing well enough to fill the pint-sized bag and she kept assuring me that everything was going well. In the end she wrapped my arm with ice because of the bleeding under my skin in order to help with any swelling and bruising. I can’t properly describe the feeling of satisfaction that I felt after so many years of trying to donate blood unsuccessfully. I didn’t take the drinks or snacks that they offer during recovery because of my diabetes and instead walked out to my car and drove home. I’m on my couch now and I feel fine physically. Inside I feel a sense of deep satisfaction and appreciation.

I hope that the blood goes to someone who is helped greatly by it. I realize that donated blood is used for a multitude of medical needs, but I also know that seven years ago it went to somone who was helpless without it. When I asked the phlebotomist if I could take a picture of the bag, she placed it on my lap and called it my "baby". 

For that moment I guess it was.