After spending much time researching, surveying doctors and nurses, Big Daddy and I decided to make a direct blood donation for Kenley, in the event she requires a blood transfusion.

I made arrangements for Britton, and Mom and I packed up sweet in Kens in her little denim car seat, watching two back-to-back episodes of ‘Praise Baby’ DVD and drove for 2 hours to the blood bank in Gainesville.

I patiently waited for my turn, answering questions, filling out paperwork (no, I haven’t slept with a prostitutes, no I haven’t spent 5 years in Europe since 1981, no I am not aware of carrying HIV, no my husband does not sleep with me, no I do not use drugs, etc etc) I was ready to donate.

My youngest daughter and I are the same blood type, and I feel like this is one thing I can do for her- alleviate one risk. Just one. If I could do that, it would be worth it.

So all was going well until she pulled the needle out of my arm and blood shot everywhere (for lack of a more descriptor word). She assured me that my donation was still viable because she had “caught it in time”.. whatever that means?

So she took my big bag of dark red blood and showed it to her coworker, who then called in the lab manager.. and I knew, today had not for nothing.

She said Garrett, I am sorry but we cannot use this sample, air got into the blood and contaminated it.

Me- can you take it from the other arm

Nurse- no, do you want me to see if someone on staff is a match?

Me- no, thank you (lips quivering at this point) I don’t want anyone that I don’t know.” I get up from my reclining chair and say, “let me speak to my mom and see”

Nurse- can she donate?

Me- No, she had hepatitis before. (from oysters)

A sweet 15 year old boy, that Mom and Kenley had befriended in the waiting area saw me crying and whispering to Mom and said, “Mame, she can have some of my blood if you like”

I had briefly spoken to this boy, while the dark red liquid was being pulled from his arm next to me. He was having rods put in his back on August 13th, a week after Kenley’s surgery.

I said to him, “you are sweet to offer her, a stranger, your blood. However you have your own procedure coming up- you keep it,”

Nice Boy- “Well, my uncle is on his way to donate, he can give to her.”

Me (to his mom)” you have a great son. Her (pointing to Kenley) daddy or aunt can come tomorrow.

So, we got back in the car, and drove the two hours ride in the rain once again. No blood.
In the big scheme, it’s small stuff I know. I’ll keep repeating until I believe.