Blood for Blood

Giving blood has always played a large part in my household. My dad and sister are the universal donors and give as often as they can. My uncle gives. My grandfather gives. I did not want to live my entire life on the outside looking in, so I decided to take part in the family tradition. I wanted to enter the bloodline, if you will. So last Thursday I walked up to the Arkansas blood drive at our university, and I wrote my name on the list. The waiting area filled itself with friends, and we laughed and watched students stumble to the snack table after giving, pale faces and all. When I was called I walked back, answered questions, and was hooked up soon after. I was not nervous, but I was excited to finally do what my family had always done. It wasn’t one minute into giving that I passed out. I was unconscious for about thirty seconds, and when I woke up all I noticed was that I had spilled fruit punch all over my new white shorts. I thought it was hilarious, though all the other eyes in the room were huge. They ran some tests, made sure I was okay, and then I grabbed a few drinks before leaving. I had failed, and I figured that I would never give blood again. Soon after, I would realize that that is not the kind of man that I wanted to be.

Several hours after visiting the donation center, I received a call from a friend back home in Pennsylvania. She quietly told me about how one of our close friends had just passed away in a car accident. The news floored me. Memories flooded my mind. Pictures started emerging from the scene, and even though they were taken from afar, I saw the blood. I saw my friend lying still on the ground with a white bag over his body. At just twenty years old, he was gone. I grieved for his family and his loved ones. I wanted to help somehow, but I was in no position to do so. Sitting in my dorm room thousands of miles away I wept, broken and helpless.

It was then that something clicked in my brain. Blood. That Thursday was a day filled with it, and I realized it could also be my key for reaching those that are in crisis. I know what loss feels like. I also know that families around the world are facing it every single day, and I have a way to combat that. My blood could be the blood that saves their lives. I am in good health, I simply need to make smarter decisions before giving blood. The risk that I take in giving blood again pales in comparison to the risk others may have living without it. I would be selfish to keep it to myself. Some may call these thoughts foolish, but I consider it my duty. It is the least that I can do to hold off the pain that families may feel in losing a loved one. I continue to give in honor of Brandon. I cannot have him back, but I can walk in the legacy he left behind. Blood for blood, he lives on.