Sunday, August 19, 2007

Blood banks - depositing and withdrawing

This one is kind of hard to write.



Almost 8 years ago, my daughter gave birth to my youngest grandson. I was fortunate enough to be with her when lil man was born.


As far as deliveries go, it was fairly uneventful. Julie had a saddle block, so felt minimal pain. The baby’s dad and I were amused - the only way (aside from the monitors) that you could tell she was having a contraction was by the fact that her toes twitched. There was a moment of panic when the little twit decided to make an entrance wearing the umbilical cord around his neck, but the attending physicians and nurses soon sorted that out.


The baby was healthy, Julie was healthy, God was in His heaven and all was right with the world. The baby’s dad left and it was just the 3 of us. Julie began hemorrhaging. The doctors recommended an immediate blood transfusion. My daughter is ADAMANTLY opposed to blood transfusions - a personal objection, not a religious one. She refused. No amount of arguing or persuasion on my part had any effect.


I waited - and her doctor waited - until she lost consciousness and then I authorized the transfusion. Those 5 units of blood saved her life.


When she regained consciousness, she was livid that I had gone against her wishes. She said that she could never trust me again, etc. I told her that that was fine - that she was alive to be pissed and I was good with that. We agreed to disagree (we do that a lot).


For the next 7+ years, whenever the subject came up, Julie reiterated her displeasure with me and for the next 7+ years, I thanked God each and every day that she was here to tell me how untrustworthy I was.

Earlier this week, Julie and her lil man went with me to the blood bank. For privacy reasons, they could not go with me while I donated. I was unaware though, that while I was donating, the receptionist directed Julie and lil man to the “cantina”. The cantina has a half wall and my daughter got to watch part of the procedure anyway. My grandson had been with me during a blood drive in our little town at the community center and had already got to watch close up and personal.


I finished donating, collected up my booty (T-shirt, girl scout cookies, and a chance to win a 6 month supply of milk) and we got ready to leave. As I was at the counter, my daughter asked when I could donate again. October 9, I said. She then said that she might want to donate, too.

Lil man told me that his mom had been explaining to him why people donate blood and that I had saved her life when he was born because someone we didn’t even know had donated blood and I made sure she got it.



So, I may still be untrustworthy and she may still be pissed but we progress. We do progress.


My heart sings.

3 comments:

Swampwitch said...

I think I can hear you singing.

Deanne said...

Great work.

For the Love... said...

seems that one post kind of leads me to another post...anyone who can illicit tears (this entry) and a snork of laughter (one example- the one where you are picking up your grandson and cleaning out your car) makes my love it list.

 
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