Possibility to save life of a stranger

By: Rachel Spitler

Posted: 5/9/08

I have always loved giving blood.

I think my feelings about it date back to early high school, when I was too young to participate in the blood drive.

All the cool older kids would get to leave class and would later saunter back in sporting big shiny bandages, declaring proudly that they'd finally made it through without passing out.

Any activity with a result like that is clearly the definition of "hardcore."

Getting more to the point, apparently a single donation can save up to three people's lives, as the American Red Cross reminds us.

I don't know how often that actually happens, but I do know that the meaning behind the statistic floors me.

For most of us (who aren't doctors, veterans, fire-fighters, etc.), straight-up heroism is simply not on the calendar. For example, I'm an English major; any situation that makes saving lives a survival skill is basically confined to wish-fulfillment books, particularly those written by other English majors.

Otherwise, my opportunities to save lives are rather limited. I can drive carefully, look out for my friends, learn CPR…

And I can give blood.

I know we're all used to it by now, but just pause for a minute and think about how crazy this is.

You walk down to the MU Ballroom, endure 10 minutes of discomfort, and walk back out. Nothing huge or difficult transpires. You even get a snack when you're done. And in exchange, some stranger's life continues.

Their life!

It's almost mystifying how unbalanced this equation is.

For me, that thought alone makes the rest of the experience worthwhile. Sure, the donation process involves some pain - a fact I conveniently allow myself to forget between visits - but it's amazing that we can do so much good with so little effort.

Besides, for most people, even the unpleasant part is downright bearable. I don't particularly love needles, of course, and always get little pangs of anxiety, but a twisted ankle hurts a lot worse, and doesn't do anyone else any good.

There are some, of course, who for physical or emotional reasons can't give blood, and that's okay.

All three of my brothers fall into the former category, mostly because of the foreign locations they lived while on missions for our church, not to mention the exotic diseases they caught there.

My husband is one of the latter types. He can hardly even sit with me when I donate; in fact, the nurses all but ignore me, pointing instead at his ghostly-pale face and whispering to each other in concern. After I'm done, he has to eat a cookie and lie down with his feet up.

As far as I'm concerned, this sort of thing is just as legitimate an opt-out as anything physical. No one wants you to make yourself sick; after all, sickness is, more or less, the very thing they're trying to conquer.

The good news is that there's still room to help out - they always need volunteers to guide people, sign them in and serve them recovery food afterwards.

I've done this myself, and it was a lot of fun. Among other things, you get to meet the intensely cool old people who count their lifetime donations in gallons.

Oh, and speaking of recovery food - OSU blood drives, unique in my personal experience, go the extra mile and reward your participation not with cookies, but with donuts. Just in case you need another reason.

Delicious incentives aside, there really is a huge need for this. The Red Cross website features a truly unnerving flash animation that reads, "X people have needed blood since you arrived at this website."

The number increments at the alarming rate of once every two seconds, rousing incongruous feelings of guilt - almost as if you were actively injuring people by sitting there trying to schedule an appointment.

Fear not, gentle reader: it's only an illustration.

Unfortunately, the sense of urgency it conveys is well-justified.

As stated in another part of the website, "only 5 percent of the eligible U.S. population donates blood in any given year."

I find this low number extremely sad. The exact percentage of people who are phobic about blood or needles is hard to track down, but my strong suspicion is that it's far less than 95 percent.

I think the problem must just be that people don't know what to expect, or are afraid that the experience is worse than it is.

If so, I hope you'll ask around, or visit the website, or accompany a friend when they go to donate.

Whatever you decide, just finding out whether this is something you can do is a huge step in the right direction.

If you do discover that you can help, it may mean the world to somebody in trouble, not to mention to their family and friends.

In 1974, my grandmother had an artificial valve placed in her heart. She was about 50 years old, with six children, some of whom had children of their own.

The operation required an outside machine which kept her blood moving while her heart was stopped, but damaged blood cells as they went through it, so that the supply had to be continually replenished.

My mother, who was in high school at the time, recalls that my grandma needed upwards of 30 units of rare, negative blood type in order to survive the procedure.

That's 30 donors without whom I never would have met her - and who most likely never met her themselves.

As it was, she lived some 30 more years, several of which were spent in my parents' home. She and my grandfather had the room underneath mine, and each had a very direct and precious influence on me as I grew up.

It wasn't just me, either: their other grandchildren number just shy of 30 (look, a pattern!), and their great-grandchildren increment about once every two seconds.

We all owe years of gratitude and love to these two people, and by extension, to the blood donors who helped them endure.

The point of my story is this:

I can't be sure that anything similarly grand happens when I give blood, but if even there's the slightest chance, you can bet I'm going to take it. And the more individual people join in, the more people, families, and communities will benefit and be changed.

Take a seat. Read a book. Have a donut. Save a life.

It doesn't get much simpler than that - or much cooler.

Rachel Spitler is a junior in English. The opinions expressed in her columns do not necessarily represent those of the Daily Barometer staff. Spitler can be reached at forum@dailybarometer.com.