MY GIFT

I woke up feeling especially exhausted and unable to walk without the help of others. I had digressed from yesterday. I felt weak and fuzzy. Throughout the morning it became more intense. I began questioning how I was feeling to the nurse on duty.

I was assured it was my body healing from giving birth. There are a small number of women who after giving birth have this ‘reaction’. Go figure… it is happening to me.

I am having a difficult time staying awake. I am not acknowledging company in our room. This can’t be normal. Can it? I am an advocate to trust your body. I am in serious question as to what is happening to me. It doesn’t feel right physically or mentally.

The nurses have a shift change; and I explain to my new nurse how I am feeling. She takes my blood pressure. It is dangerously low. She begins looking through my electronic file. “Did they not draw your blood because you didn’t have an IV due to giving natural child birth?” She asks. I correct her, “I did to have my blood drawn!” She keeps typing and slowly the keys are being tapped with more purpose. She finds nothing. My draw had been lost; it was never tested. Go figure…

They call up a tech to draw my blood. My blood pressure is dropping.

It doesn’t take long and Lisa, the midwife, enters our room. She explains that my red cells are very low. She recommends a blood transfusion. I quickly learn it is not a recommendation, but a critical need. I will need to have two units of blood. A normal count is 12. A transfusion is ordered at a count of 7. My count was 5.5. They begin asking if I am anemic or had any abnormal blood loss after delivery. I am becoming uneasy. Why are they asking me these questions? All I can say is not to my knowledge. I am thinking that I am supposed to trust these ‘professionals’ to proceed in with my blood transfusion yet they cannot answer these simple questions? Good Lord. Do they not have my chart?

Lisa explains the procedure of a blood transfusion. I feel my heart beating outside of my chest. My anxiety is growing in intensity. I look at Adam’s face and notice his loss of color. Mom is rocking Ashton. She will not look up. She is trying her best to make this situation nonchalant. However, I can sense it is anything but casual. This is a big deal! Lisa shares that after receiving the transfusion my body will need an additional 90 days to rebuild its red blood cells. If we opt not to do the transfusion I may continue to drop with the best case scenario it taking my body 120 days to have a normal count. During this time I will continue to feel weak as I do today.

There is no choice. Hook me up.

I admit to being scared. The words: blood transfusion overwhelms me. Blood is creepy. It can be frightening to see it come out of the body. It terrifies me to think of blood (someone else’s) reenter my body. The word transfusion is an intimidating word on its own. It is a word that stops people mid-sentence immediately getting attention whether it is for curiosity, fright, shock or whatever the word gets people’s interest. The truth is much can go wrong. In deeper truth as I think about my track record I begin to panic, for whatever can go wrong will go wrong during this procedure. We call off all visitors. I can’t ‘entertain’ during this private time. The transfusion will take eight hours.

Two nurses enter with my designer blood. One nurse grabs my wrist and reads my information allowed to another nurse who is holding my new blood. She reads, “Nicole n-i-c-o-l-e Rardin r-a-r-d-i-n. ID Number 8019872. Date of birth August 11, 1978. Exchange.” The next nurse reads my band, “Nicole n-i-c-o-l-e Rardin r-a-r-d-i-n. ID Number 8019872. Date of birth August 11, 1978.” They then match the bag to my electronic chart. It is the checks and balance system to ensure I receive the right blood. I make light of this in hopes to lighten the air. They are serious and mean business. The head nurse explains that a transfusion is one of the more serious procedures and the checks and balances for staff to take transfusion blood for a patient are stern. It seems all systems are a go.

She begins flushing my IV. I begin to hear, “If the IV area reddens itches or begins to bubble call immediately. If your vision becomes spotty or chest heavy push the call button…” I interrupt, “Chest heavy?” I had missed hearing the beginning of her instructions. She was listing side effects. Ironically, a vein is supposed to carry blood, however it may reject blood. To hear this makes me more uncomfortable. She continues, “The reaction will take place within the first 15 minutes of your receipt of the blood.”

She begins the transfusion. I feel faint. I am going to vomit. The blood is on a slow drip. It is entering my hand and being introduced to my body.

My mind has countless thoughts swirling about. Mainly I cannot overcome the thought that someone else’s blood is now in my body. I have strangers blood circulating my insides. It is creeping me out; and I begin to feel (thanks to my imagination) the blood thicken. My chest is heavy as though a ton of bricks has been thrown on top of my heart. Of course these symptoms are self induced to my active imagination. All is well. We are on the road to receiving and accepting the first unit. I am starting to breathe easier. I rest well.

The second unit is delivered 4 hours later at 8pm. Two nurses repeat the procedure of matching my band, chart and me to the bag. The nurse goes over the side effects. I jokingly tell her that if I begin to feel anything different then I do right now I plan to push the call button. She smiles. She begins the flush followed by the transfusion. Again, I have countless thoughts swirling about. Mainly I cannot overcome the thought that someone else has given their blood to save my life. A stranger sat in a clinic to guarantee the blood bank has O+ for a patient in need.

The creepiness subsides as an overpowering emotion of gratitude swells through me. I am experiencing the purity of human goodwill. We are in this room due to giving birth to our second son. I thought this was the embodiment of the circle of life. The gift of blood characterizes this circle too. To have both in the same 24 hours truly exemplifies and honors this circle.

I made a pact that once a mother I would overcome my fear and donate blood. For we cannot ask to receive something we are not willing to give. God forbid my children are ever in need of a transfusion or transplant I want to pray for something I am willing to do for another person. I didn’t want to give only because of being in need, but because it is what we should all do. Every person should pay forward this gift, for we never know who will need such a powerful donation.

I will be able to pay the bank back (with interest) in 364 days. Transfusion patients may not donate for one year after the procedure. In celebrating Ashton’s first birthday I plan to sit in a clinic paying forward my good fortune. After all, a birthday is celebrating life. To give blood is very symbolic of such a commemoration. I will be a continuation of the circle of life beyond my own. Throughout 2011 I will plan returning trips to the blood bank repaying my promise of interest.

The interest is being deposited in the names of: Adam, Kaden, Ashton and Gratitude.