Bloggin' Umholtz

Are you a Quart Low?

Hah! I wondered yesterday if anyone was reading my blog and Val (Sultry) put out the word and today I had 6 new blog comments! True, 2 were from Sultry, but four weren’t. I guess it is true; the squeaky wheel does get the grease.

Today at work we had a blood drive. I’m not allowed to donate blood because of some strange problem known as ITP. If memory serves, ITP stands for Ideopathic Thrombo-cyclopenia purphora. Say that three times quickly. It simply means my body doesn’t produce very many blood platelets and nobody knows why.

As I understand it, these platelet thingies are fairly valuable, in that, when you cut yourself, they are instrumental in clotting the blood and stopping the bleeding. Seems like a good thing to me. I’m not in the range of having to get treatment of any sort, but I flirt with this limit from time to time. I’m nowhere close to being near the hemophiliac range which is really, really good news. But, I’m not allowed to give blood, because, I need all I have. Then again, doesn’t everybody?

My hat is off to the folks at Red Cross and to the donors. They are, without a doubt, under appreciated by society. Most people don’t think a thing about giving blood until some physician is standing in the hospital waiting room telling them their loved one needs a quart or two. When my sister hemorrhaged after giving birth to her second child, it was donated blood that kept her alive until surgery could correct the problem. Some twenty odd years, (and yes quite a few of them have been odd) I am still thankful for the donors who stepped up to the plate, or needle as it were, as, I am sure, her daughters. The youngest, who was the baby of the moment, recently got married, with Mom there to walk her down the aisle.

I won’t preach at you to donate blood. Not everyone can, but if you can, well, do it. Do it before you’re standing in some hospital waiting room, hearing your loved one needs a quart or two and there’s none to be had.

If you can’t donate, volunteer to work the blood drive. I worked my first one as a twelve-year-old boy scout. They’re always looking for help. You’ll be glad you did.