"Blessed" with O+ blood, my pops has always been quick to roll up his sleeve for blood donation—metaphorically and physically. This became a cause close to his heart and I guess it made an impression on me from the time I was a youngster.
Less than a week into retirement, he started volunteering with the American Red Cross as a blood delivery guy—whiskin' all kinds of life-saving fluids all over the region.
Recently, he was called up about a shortage of his high-octane O+ blood, so he rolled up his sleeve once again.
His pre-donation checkup revealed that his hemoglobin levels were about half of what they should be. Next thing he knew, he was in a hospital bed—receiving the same transfusions he'd planned to donate that same day. The whole thing had come full circle.
I'm happy to report he's back home, feelin' much like his old self again.
Inspired by his experience, I arranged my first blood donation appointment in...well, I'm ashamed to say, really.
About 3 hours before my appointment, the folks at the American Red Cross called me up, asking if I'd be willing to donate platelets instead of blood, as they were hurtin' for 'em in my blood type.
The difference in experiences would be that, instead of 20 minutes to fill a bag, I'd sit for about 2 hours while a fancy robot slurped blood from one arm, swished it around while gulpin' down yummy platelets, and spittin' it right back in my other arm while I watched Seinfeld on Netflix under a heap of blankets in a recliner.
It didn't seem too bad, so I obliged. While doing so, I was photographed and interviewed by Matt Trotter (yes, THE Matt Trotter, ya'll) about my pops, my city runnin', and my blood and platelet donations.
It was an unexpected turn with a pretty nice outcome. I intend to come back regularly to donate platelets, blood, or whatever else they need.
And I think you should, too. You'd be saving lives and it's good for your soul.
Oh, and they give you cookies—so you have that goin' for you...which is nice.
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