Platelets!

I donated blood a couple of days ago. Once the bloodletting was complete, I did my obligatory time at the cookie and juice table. Per standard protocol, I was temporarily incarcerated by the snack lady.

This particular volunteer was so enthusiastic about human blood, I was fairly certain she was part vampire. And platelets! Oh, what there was to learn about platelets. She held me hostage for about twenty minutes educating me about platelets. Apparently, they’re important because of their short shelf life, and how frequently they’re needed by cancer patients, particularly children with leukemia.

She asked why I donated. It’s funny how a well-timed, simple question can bring intense memories to the fore. Certain events can be resurrected and remembered like they happened yesterday. Why do I donate? Because my son nearly bled out following a near-fatal car accident. Because I watched him visibly come back to life as the doctors filled his depleted veins with bags of blood. Bags of blood that were filled by people like me. Like you.

I kind of hate doing it. It’s hard to spend thirty minutes or so, wide awake, lying down. I’m not crazy about the needle stick, either. Plus, bags of blood are a little gross. The colorful wrap you get to sport all day is kind of cool, though … a badge of honor. I usually pick pink. I think a lot about Justin as I recline, squeezing the stress ball every ten seconds. The dull ache in my arm is nothing compared to what he went through that day.

So, I’ll keep donating every couple of months. It’s not every day you get to do something that may save someone’s life. And hey … go platelets! The snack lady says so.