Five Routine Minutes: Hi. I’m Oma. I’m O Positive.Posted: June 27, 2012
I got a phone call from The Red Cross requesting that I come in to give blood.
The caller said there was a critical shortage of my type of blood and they’d appreciate it if I’d drop by and leave a pint. I said that I would do that. I help them out when I can because they make me feel so good about what they want me to do. Also, they give me a water bottle.
Mostly, it is that they make me feel good.
There are a series of tests that I have to complete when I give blood. I passed them all.
But then came the lightning round of questions:
“Have you had babesiosis?” No.
“Have you had sex for money?” No.
“Have you had a tattoo?” No.
“Have you had a bone graft?”
Uh-oh, bone graft. I had one back in December. I told them I had a bone graft in my neck. That led to a series of odd questions:
“Was it your own bone that was grafted?”
“So it was donated bone. Do you know whose bone it was?”
“Was it a real bone?”
My questioner left the room. She was gracious when she returned to tell me they couldn’t take any blood donations from me for a year because I don’t know where part of me came from.
I understand the reason. It just makes sense…though I’m not sure how I will ever know who my donated bone came from. So, I’m going to ask you to do a couple of things for me…
…and please make a blood donation when you can. It’s a nice thing to do and the need is great.