Everyday Heroes…or as I like to call myself…Joe Schmoe

by Janet Snyder, blood donor, administrative assistant, lover of all things made of sugar

When people ask me why I donate blood, I always say it’s the chocolate old-fashioned donuts. I also tell them it’s because my husband is only a few pints ahead of me and I can’t let him win.  But in all seriousness, it’s the only way I know that a regular old “Joe Schmoe” like me can actually save a life. I mean ... are you a doctor? a nurse? a fire fighter? a cop?  a member of a search and rescue team? Are you someone who saves lives on a regular basis? Well I’m not any of those, so how do I save a life? How can I make a real difference in the lives of others? 

Blood. It’s something we all have. It’s something that most people can donate and still function normally, and it’s something that is essential to live. Take just a moment…if you can think of an easier way for someone like me to save a life on a regular basis, please tell me.  I’d be all over it!  But keep in mind that I don’t have a whole lot of money to donate, and with a full-time job and an hour-long commute (each way), my time is pretty limited. So what can a “normal” person (Joe) like me do to make a difference? Donate blood.

It’s interesting that I was asked to write a blog post at the beginning of 2010.  As you know or can probably relate, this was a difficult year for a lot of people for many reasons.  Two thousand nine was not too terribly difficult for me, personally, but for those close to me, it’s another story.  In this year alone, a co-worker’s husband tangoed with a streetcar, another co-worker had a second lung transplant, and my little cousin was hit by a car.  All three of them needed blood.  MY blood. They needed ME.  I looked up my blood donation history and found out that I donated only a few days before my friend/co-worker’s first transplant in 2008 (heart and both lungs).  We won’t ever really know for sure, but we like to say that I helped her!  Is that the coolest thing, or what?  Helping your friend.  Helping your neighbor, your aunt, your co-worker, a stranger…that’s HUGE!  I don’t think enough people realize HOW huge.  Have you read the other blog entries from blood recipients like this one or this?  HUGE!  By the way, I’m happy to report that with the help of doctors, nurses, other health care professionals, their families, and ME and other Joe’s…my co-worker’s husband, my other co-worker, and my little cousin are all very busy working on their rehab!

So…if it doesn’t cost anything, and it doesn’t hurt, and it’s only about an hour out of your day (once every eight weeks), and just about ANY Joe Schmoe can do it, then why don’t more people do it? Did you know that less than 4% of people who are eligible to donate blood actually do?  I don’t know why that is.  We need to change that.  Like jury duty, we should think of it as our civic duty. Why wouldn’t someone want to help save a life? These days, when people see my colorful bandage and ask if I donated blood, I say “Yes, I saved a life today!”  Me ... Joe Schmoe.  An Everyday Hero.

Oliver’s Story

by Michele Slack,Vice President of Digital Media for sfgate.com, Berkeley resident, and Oliver’s mom

“Baby Out.”  Three years later, I can still hear those words as if they were yesterday.  They were quickly followed by a healthy wail – the sound I had been desperately hoping to hear from the moment I showed up at the hospital 41 days earlier.  My water broke when I was pregnant at only 25 weeks (five and a half months).  Somehow, staying flat on my back, in the hospital, I was able to keep my baby safe inside me for almost six more weeks.

Oliver was born exactly two month’s premature.  He blew holes in both lungs with that first wail and was whisked straight up into the Newborn Intensive Care Unit (NICU).  For the initial week of his life, Oliver had a breathing tube down his throat along with 12 other wires and tubes attached to his small body.  With the breathing tube in, I could not hold my baby and could only stand by his side whispering what I hoped were words of encouragement and strength.

Initially, he made great strides.  After a week, the breathing tubes came out and his lungs had healed.  After another week, he started taking food from a bottle.  But he continued to battle with dips in his heart rate (bradycardias) and irregular breathing (apneas) - what we quickly learned to refer to in the NICU as A’s and B’s.  As scary as it was for us, we were told he would grow out of it as he got bigger and stronger.

As the weeks passed, Oliver got bigger but he was not getting stronger.  He was given vitamins, an iron supplement, even a Pepcid type of drug just in case acid reflux was causing his As and Bs.  But the As and Bs were not lessening.  He was ready to go home in every other way so they started giving him breathing tests to assess his readiness to leave the hospital.  He took one test and our hopes soared but he failed.  Several days later, he took another test and failed.  We were crushed.
After the second failed test, his doctor came and spoke to us.  He recommended a blood transfusion.  He explained that sometimes new, strong blood is what these little babies who are struggling need to get themselves over the last hurdle and home.  The doctors had tried everything else and concluded this was what was needed to get Oliver strong enough for his heart to beat regularly and for his breathing to be steady.

I remember sitting by Oliver’s side for the long hours it took for that large bag of blood to be pumped into his small body.  I looked in wonder at that magical liquid flowing through the tube that had come from another person – a gift to my son.

It truly was magic.  The next day Oliver looked stronger.  His cheeks had a rosy glow and most importantly, he passed his sleep test.  He was discharged and came home the day before Thanksgiving.  Needless to say, we had a lot to be thankful for.  Today, he is a thriving happy, healthy 3-year-old.  He has no memories of his early battles and we will never know the person who gave us that magical gift.  But we will never forget.