Let's Share a Pint!

I recently donated my 13^th gallon of blood to the American Red Cross, and I’m feeling pretty proud! To keep this momentum of generosity, I’m also letting Ollie borrow my new swag to wear on his hoodie. He loves wearing clothes and you can tell that the bling makes him feel extra proud.

I started donating blood with my dad when I was a teenager. He was a regular blood donor and invited me to come along one day. It was easy and fun and became our “thing.” We would race and usually completed our donations in under five minutes. We Lings are genetically very juicy. He would take me out to lunch afterward. It was awesome. Then I got older and became an awful person and we quit doing that together. Sorry, Dad. But the seeds were sown and I had learned that donating blood was an easy way to give something that meant a lot to certain people.

Over the years, I have worried about what else I was giving of myself in addition to my blood. There are lots of reports of “cellular memory” in which transplanted organ recipients took on traits of their donors. Strange cravings for Chicken McNuggets and freaky new abilities in drawing or cooking have been detailed. Even though recipients of my blood are not getting a whole organ, it tickles me to think that someone might suddenly develop aversions to shopping or figs. Or perhaps irresistibly begin stockpiling pints of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream when it goes on sale.

I’m mindful to think positive thoughts while I’m donating blood these days, but it IS still MY blood you’re getting. So don’t be shocked if you fly into a rage after seeing Christmas decorations go on sale in August.

We moved to Oregon when the kids were 4, 5, and 6 years old. The blood drives at City Hall were super laid back and staffed with volunteers who were chill with kids, so I began the habit of bringing my three young children with me to donate blood. The first time, the volunteer was suspicious.

She: The kids can’t be with you when you donate.

Me: I know. They’ll just stay in the snack area. They’ll be fine.

And they were fine. They’re great kids. They brought their little GameBoys and ate as many little packets of Oreos and Goldfish as they wanted. The little old ladies were happy to serve them infinite free juice boxes. They were content, and it only took a half hour or so.

At some point, phlebotomists started using single-use markers to indicate the locations of veins. They would always ask if I wanted to take the marker home; otherwise they’d throw it away. This hilarity ensued one afternoon.

My pediatrician commended me one day. “If they see you donating blood, they’ll probably donate blood when they get old enough.” Alex and Audrey have already given it a go. At least I know that none of my kids are scared to donate blood. And when they have the time and energy, I have confidence that they’ll at least consider it. There’s a season for everything.

Oregon Law requires cars to have both front and back license plates. California Law did not require this in 2004, so we only had a single rear plate when we first moved. One afternoon, the kids and I were headed to lunch after a blood donation, and I got pulled over for failing to have a front plate on my minivan. This was the first time the kids had seen something like this and the boys got worried as I talked to the nice officer.

As I pulled out my license and registration, Chris asked, “Mom, are you giving him money?”

As I continued talking to the officer, Alex started to panic, “Mom, is he going to take you to jail??”

And OF COURSE, this happened RIGHT on the main road AT THE ENTRANCE TO OUR NEIGHBORHOOD. Audrey stayed calm and observant as is her nature. She gave me a play-by-play of all the cars slowing down to make note of the police apprehension of their newest neighbor-slash-criminal.

There’s Mrs. Quarterman!

Look, Mom! Libby’s mommy just drove by!

It feels great to get compliments on my big veins. “Oh, yeah!” they’ll exclaim when I show them my arms. One time, a phlebotomist wrapped a cuff around my upper arm to find a vein, and he chuckled, “Whoa! Do you even lift, Bro?”

When my oldest was very sick, I felt powerless that there were SO many things that were completely out of my control. Donating blood every two months felt great, but this was the time I also started donating platelets as a way to alleviate my feelings of helplessness. I LOVED it! Donating platelets doesn’t make you feel tired or require any recovery time like donating whole blood sometimes does. It DOES take a lot longer, about three hours. But the process is nice. I got warm blankets and watched a movie without interruption, which is something that rarely happens at my own house! The staff were so nice, always making sure I was comfortable.

But alas, my body rebelled after a couple of years, reacting to the anticoagulant. At first, I started getting nauseated, which was tolerable. Then one time I threw up. So gross. Good thing cancer patients are so damned grateful! After that, I was told that it would be better for me not to donate platelets anymore. *sigh* But I’m still a boss at whole blood donations.

I changed my Red Cross profile picture this year. Get it? One hundred and one donations.

And now I have this nice pin after my 104^th donation. I think it’s SUPER COOL how people come together, lining up to donate blood after a disaster or emergency. But like slow and steady giving, it’s EVEN BETTER if you donate blood regularly if you can. Make an appointment and come with me! I’ll take you to lunch after!

As always, thank you for reading!
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