As human beings, we make the mistake of thinking we’ll have more time to be with the people we love. We live in the mindset that tragedies only strike ‘other’ people; people less fortunate than us. We go about our lives occasionally giving these less fortunate people a thought of empathy, but then continue on with our routine, safe in the knowledge that we are lucky and harm won’t come our way. When I was a young teenager, I always thought I would have time to heal the relationship with my father. It didn’t matter what I said or did because I would have time to say sorry later. This mindset can be dangerous. I took time for granted. Goodbyes were thought to always be met with hellos again. This is not how the world works, however. I was naïve to the fact that sometimes accidents happen, and you can’t turn back the clock. Thanks to blood donors, I didn’t have to learn this lesson the hard way. After the date of May 11th, 2014, I make blood donations whenever I can. Because of blood donors, I still have a father and in turn an irreplaceable relationship that could have been lost.
When I was younger, I remember feeling pride when family would tell my dad and I how much we looked alike, and even prouder when I heard the sentence “you are just like your father.” I thought my dad was superman. I was always stuck to his side, and followed him everywhere. In my eyes, he knew everything about the world. We were always outside exploring, playing games, and terrifying my mother. One time I had picked up a snake, and while my mom nearly fainted, my dad just laughed and asked what the snakes name was. He seemed to have no fears, and when he was around I felt brave too. He never made me feel like I was in the way or annoying him. My dad made sure he always had time for me. Whenever I felt small and unimportant, my dad was able to put a smile on my face. I remember getting into a fight with one of the neighborhood kids one day, and when I came home crying he told me to grab his keys and then let me drive his truck around the pasture. I thought I was the coolest kid on the block after that. When he would have to leave for work, I would try to block the door or distract him. One time I even hid his keys, and despite knowing what I had done he didn’t even get mad. I looked up to my dad, in the eyes that were so much like my own, and felt honored to have such an amazing
As I got older and entered my early teens, my relationship with my dad changed. Although I wouldn’t have admitted it back then, I was plagued with teen angst and my dad got the blunt of it. I began to see my dad’s imperfections, and forgot the traits I used to admire. Where my dad once seemed loving and understanding, he became clingy and annoying. He couldn’t walk into my room without getting on my nerves. I would decline any invitation to spend time with him, and would ignore him when he tried to start a conversation with me. The only time I really spoke with him was when I wanted something. To me, he became nuisance, a person who would never understand me. I looked forward to him being at work and away from me. I said hurtful words when things didn’t go my way, and was a typical defiant teenager. Despite my horrible attitude, my father was continually patient and kind to me. He never yelled during an argument, and continually showed love and support. Looking back, one of my biggest regrets is the way I treated him during that time in my life.
On May 9th, 2014 my mother, sister and I went on a weekend trip to Kansas City to tour some colleges and spend time together. Before leaving, I got into a fight with my dad over something trivial and, as I was walking out the door, I told him the best part about going to Kansas City was the fact that I wouldn’t see him for an entire weekend. Although I felt some regret for what I had said, I was stubborn and refused to talk to him the next night when my mom offered me the phone in the hotel. I thought I would just make an insincere apology when I got back home. That Sunday, I was enjoying walking through a farmers market with my mom and sister. We were in a little shop when we heard my mother’s phone ring. It was my older sister. We all rolled our eyes when we saw her name on caller ID; my older sister being the type to call about a broken nail. When my mom answered the phone, however, the smile on her face dropped. She said “What do you mean he’s not responding? Calm down and give the phone to a paramedic.” Apparently my dad had fallen, and was not able to move.
Kansas City is a four hour drive from my home in Tulsa. That drive back was the longest four hours of my life. I kept thinking of the worst outcome, that I would never see my dad again. I was terrified of the possibility that my last words to him were saying I was glad to be away from him. We were not sure what had happened to my dad, we only knew he had fallen and was being transported to Saint Francis Hospital. When we got to the hospital, we were met with my crying older sister and a nurse that told us my father had been taken to surgery. The surgeon eventually came out and explained to us that my father had a C4/C5 cervical spine fracture with quadriplegia. He had two blood transfusions from two separate surgeries. His first surgery was on the same day as the fall, and the second was 3 days later. The first blood transfusion was required because of blood loss during surgery. The second transfusion was used to make him strong enough for a second surgery. During those three days, I kept telling my dad how sorry I was about how I had been acting.
Through the efforts of an amazing hospital team, some generous blood donors, and a few months in the hospital, my dad was able to come home. There have been many adjustments to this new lifestyle, but that doesn’t matter as long as my dad is still here with us. Following the accident, my relationship with my dad has been renewed. Now that I’m in college, I often call my dad to tell him about my day. I share my accomplishments as well as my worries with him. He still knows all the right words to say.
Thanks to generous, life-saving blood donors, I won’t have to regret the last words I say to my father. Without the transfusions that took place during my dad’s surgeries, he wouldn’t be here. He would have never gotten to see me walk across the stage to receive my high school diploma, never have gotten to see me move into a college dorm room, and never have gotten to hear me say ‘I love you’ again. I also learned that besides having the same eyes, we have the same blood type. I am now a regular O- donor. I can’t imagine what life would be like without him, and thanks to the Oklahoma Blood Institute, I don’t have to.
