It's In You To Give

Here is a blog post I created using Gemini:

The holiday season is famously painted as picture-perfect: serene snowfalls, perfectly wrapped gifts, and family dinners where no one argues. But we all know the reality is often chaotic—tangled lights, last-minute shopping panic, and way more food than our stomachs can handle.

Giving back should be the same. We often think of charity as a solemn, graceful act. But sometimes, doing the right thing is a comedy of errors.

I learned this firsthand when I gave blood for the first time last month.

It started with a burst of courage. Actually, it started with a friend’s idea last year. The first reality of giving is that not everyone can do it. If you have low hemoglobin, they know right away and will show you to the door. Don't let the snack cart hit you on the way out. My friend couldn't make it, so I went alone.

I was nervous. At no point during the process did anyone ask me if I was sure I wanted to do this. They just got to work. After the donation, I waited the obligatory 15 minutes, enjoying some snacks and impressed with myself for surviving.

I felt ready to leave. I couldn't stay there forever! I started to feel tired. Was I ready to drive myself home to nap? One quick stop to the bathroom and I would be sure, but when I saw the large piece of tape wrapped around my elbow in my reflection in the mirror, I suddenly felt woozy.

I went back to the room to tell them that I was feeling "a bit spinny" and that was going to wait a little longer. (Full disclosure: I really wanted to go back for the little snack pack of Oreo cookies I saw on my way out and wanted just to grab them "to go.")

But, as soon as I stepped back into the room, the receptionist panicked and called for help. I was asked if I was warm. I was put on a stretcher. Then, in a twist of logic only found in panic, I was told to take my sweater off to cool down—which meant I had to stand up again, remove my iPod headphones creating a massive wire kerfuffle, leaving my purse and snacks in the waiting area as they wheeled me behind a makeshift wall for "privacy." It felt like everyone in the auditorium was looking at me, including the snack lady!

Ironically, they realized I had laid down the wrong way on the stretcher. They couldn't move it until they spun the wheels around—a full 360 degrees. For someone who reported being dizzy, why did I feel like I was being unnecessarily assisted by The Three Stooges?

It was embarrassing. The "First Time Donor" sticker was still back at my sweater and I felt like such a noob at this mobile clinic. I wanted to rest as bright overhead florescent lights shone into my soul, making me regret the desire for those Oreos, but they told me that I couldn't close my eyes. That I had to stay awake. I guess, they wouldn't know if I fainted if I closed my eyes. They took my temperature and brought me some juice boxes. They figured that I hadn't had enough to eat before I came there that day.

I left that clinic ready to call Canadian Blood Services to complain about how I was treated. I was embarrassed, angry, and upset. But then I showed my son the puncture mark and told him that I gave blood today and he was impressed. He didn't understand why I needed a nap, but he was proud of his momma that day.

The resentment still bubbled inside of me and I struggled to visualize myself ever giving blood again. However, when I got a text the very next day, telling me that my donation had gone to save somebody's life, those feelings suddenly evaporated. I felt like a superhero. Like a woman not to be messed with. Take that, snack lady! If I knew that all I had to do was shoot blood out of my arm for 10 minutes to feel like a God, I would do it every day!

It made the spinning stretcher, the headphone tangle, and the wooziness worth it. All mistakes were forgiven.

About an hour later, my brain kicked in and I remembered the science. It takes at least a week for blood to be usable. They have to test for HIV, Hepatitis, and STDs. They separate the plasma from the red blood cells, so you are actually donating much less than the half a litre they pull out of you. They send the plasma to one place and the red blood cells somewhere else. That takes some time.

I realized the text was likely automated. Would my recipient ever know that they received blood from someone who had to go through a "Three Stooges" episode to give it?

Furthermore, I realized that a transfusion usually takes about 3 units of pure red blood cells. That would make my blood only 33% of their new blood. I am not 100% their savior. That wouldn't even be enough to make them start acting like me (which is probably for the best).

With the flip of the calendar right around the corner, I wanted to compare the pressure of giving blood to the pressure of giving gifts during the holiday season. We turn into little balls of Stressmas over the holidays. We want to give the perfect gift that solves all our loved ones' problems. We want to have the perfect ambiance. Now that my son is losing faith in the bearded man, there is extra pressure on me to make the spirit of the season special. We are still going to do Elf on the Shelf, but he will be helping me with it this year and I hope he will finally see how much work went into it, all these years.

But in reality? We are just 33% of this experience. Especially, in my family, where there are just the three of us.

 * We are one contribor to the stack of presents under the tree.

 * We are one voice who belts out Christmas carols in the car.

 * We are one baker of gingerbread cookies (or any other tradion you choose to carry out each year).

Giving blood, like giving holiday gifts, doesn't have to be a graceful, cinematic moment. It can be messy. You might feel woozy. You might get tangled in your headphones. You might only be a fraction of what that person needs.

But that 33%? It keeps people going.

It’s in you to give—even if you’re nervous, even if you’re clumsy, and even if you’re just doing it for the Oreos.

This season, don't worry about being perfect. Just worry about showing up. (And maybe keep your sweater off until you're sure you aren't going to faint).

Ready to be someone's 33%? As they say, donate today!

https://www.blood.ca/en