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Making The Giving Worthwhile

January 15, 2011 By

On Thursday morning (at 11:30 a.m. EST if anyone wants to be that precise) I will be donating blood.  I am greatly looking forward to it, and if you’re reading any sarcasm in that sentiment, none whatsoever is intended.  I really, genuinely, truly am looking forward to sitting in one of those reclining chairs while a unit of my blood is transferred from my body for the purpose of saving a life that needs saving.

I am excited to be doing this.  I am excited to be doing something, giving of myself in some small way, to help other people.

The last time I tried to donate was about twenty years ago.  I passed the initial iron test and got settled in one of the reclining chairs in the clinic.  The entire process from that point on was an absolute disaster.  The nurse – a kind, gentle soul who felt terrible about the pain she was putting me through – had to poke multiple holes in both arms before she could get the blood to flow.  When it did flow, it was painfully slow, and when about third of a unit had been taken from me, I passed out. I was sick for days after that, and when I went to my doctor, he advised me not to donate blood while my health was in such a fragile state.

It just wasn’t the right time for me to donate, back then.  There was a whole mess of crap happening in my life, and the stress of it all took its toll on my health.

Now things are different.  I am fit and healthy.  I am not under constant stress, I sleep as much as two kids and a hectic schedule allow me to, and my running regimen pretty much forces me to eat more or less healthily.  I am ready to put the memory of my last donation attempt behind me and try it again.  I am confident that the results will be far, far better.

I’m doing what I can to make sure, though.  My main objective over the next few days is to ensure that my blood is whole and healthy, that it can indeed be used to help someone who needs it.  If I show up on Thursday to give my pint of blood in honour of Capt. Snuggles, and they turn me away because my iron is too low, I will not be happy.  I have to do whatever I can to make sure that does not happen.

I share these tips for the benefit of anyone reading this who might be interested in donating blood (Michelle, maid of honour and friend extraordinaire, has already said that she will try to join me on Thursday).

  • For several days prior to donating, eat foods rich in iron.  Breads, meat, fish, chicken, fruit, raisins, nuts, dark leafy greens.  This is especially important for the ladies, whose iron levels tend to be less stable.
  • Be aware that many foods rich in iron are also high in fat, and a high lipid content can also result in you being turned away.  For 2-3 days before you donate, focus on a low-fat diet, but keep on consuming iron-rich foods that are low in fat.
  • Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate.  If you don’t drink enough fluids, the nurses will have a hard time finding your vein, and once you are hooked up, your blood will flow slowly and the process will take longer.  Limit sugar and caffeine in your beverages, since these slow the absorption of water.
  • Get enough sleep!  This will not necessarily change the quality of your blood, but it will make your recovery a lot easier.
  • The day before, load up on iron-rich foods, but ones that are low in fat.  Drink lots of water and go to bed early.
  • The day of, have a good breakfast so that you have the calories to start regenerating your blood.  Eat fruits with a high water content, and drink water and energy drinks (this can also give you one last iron boost before you go).
  • Try to eat either a meal or a snack right before you go.  You don’t want to donate on an empty stomach.  Take a bottle of water with you.
  • After you’ve made your donation, sit down and rest, and have a snack to raise your blood sugar.  Many clinics provide juice and cookies – if you don’t have a snack of your own on hand, accept the juice and cookies!
  • Light to moderate exercise several hours after you donate will help raise your energy levels.  I’m not talking about a five-mile run, I’m talking about an easy walk.

Many of these are good inroads to a healthy lifestyle, and following these steps will help make your blood healthy and vibrant.   If you are medically able to donate blood, I appeal to you to please consider it.  It really could be a matter of life and death for someone.

I am humbled and kind of ashamed that it has taken this – the life-threatening tragedy of a little baby – to spur me on to do this.  Ultimately, it is Captain Snuggles saving lives here, because he is the reason I am doing this.

Click here for Amy’s latest update on Capt. Snuggles.

Filed Under: Blood donation, Giving, postaday2011 Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , ,
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Life Blood

January 12, 2011 By

What can I do?

This has been the question plaguing me for the last few days, while friend and fellow writer Amy sits at her critically ill baby’s bedside, waiting, hoping and praying.  I have been doing my best to send out an ever-expanding circle of positive energy to Amy, and to the baby, David.  I have tried to let Amy know – hopefully Amy does know – that I am with her in spirit, waiting and hoping and praying with her. I have been giving my own kids lots of extra hugs, letting them stay up past their bedtime just so that I could have an extra fifteen minutes with them, not getting so het up over silly things that prior to learning about the severity of David’s illness, would have had my knickers in a twist.

All of this is important.  I believe that the positive thoughts and the shifts in focus and the offers of support do at least let the intended recipient know that they are being thought of, that they are not alone.  But it doesn’t seem enough.  I have found myself wishing, longing to do something practical to help make this journey even a little bit easier for Amy to bear.

What can I do?

The obvious problem is that Amy and I live in different countries.  If I lived in Ohio, I would be able to do stuff.  I could cook meals for Amy’s family.  I could take her laundry away and bring her fresh changes of clothing.  I could bring books to read to Captain Snuggles. I could offer to babysit her kids so that she could get time with her husband.  The list of what I could do if I were there goes on and on.  But the fact remains that I live in Toronto and Amy lives in Ohio.

What can I do?

Realistically, my ability to help Amy in any practical sense is severely limited.  But this morning, I thought of something I can do that could potentially help other people in her situation, in David’s situation.

Over the last few days, Captain Snuggles has had multiple blood transfusions.  His mother has watched desperately as his life blood has flowed out of him faster than it can be replaced.  Without the transfusions he has received so far, it is extremely likely that David would not still be with us.

That blood has to come from somewhere.  I have plenty of what I assume is perfectly good blood: there is no reason for me to not give it to someone whose life might well depend on it.

The last time I donated blood, it did not go well.  But that was twenty years ago, and due to extremely stressful events that were happening in my life at the time, my health had taken a hammering.  Now my health is fine, and I feel inspired to give it another go.  There is a blood donor clinic at my place of work next week, and I have made my appointment to be a part of it.  For the next week, I will be eating lots of healthy stuff and doing what I can to make sure my blood is whole and healthy.

Maybe this small act will save someone’s life.  Maybe it will bring some family back from the brink of despair.  Maybe it will give someone hope.

Amy, if you are reading this, I really wish I could do something that would help you directly.  But please know that my decision to donate blood is inspired by you and your beautiful boy.  Even though he will not physically benefit, I am doing this for Captain Snuggles.

(Photo credit: Flickr Creative Commons Attribution License)

Filed Under: health, Illness, life, Medical, postaday2011 Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , ,
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He Lives To Fight Another Day…

January 10, 2011 By

For those following the story, Captain Snuggles chugs along.  Last night was a bad one.  There was much bleeding, so much that a blood transfusion was called for.  Amy’s full update can be found here.

I want to take a moment here to spare a thought for a special group of people: donors.  Baby David is still with us – albeit in a tenuous state – because of a liver and Lord knows how many pints of blood that originated from other human beings.  Blood and organ donors save lives.  They give hope where otherwise there would be none.

I have my usual request tonight, which is to please keep thinking those positive thoughts.  Keep saying those prayers to whatever supreme being you happen to believe in.  Continue to send out that vibrant, life-giving energy to Amy and her son David.

And Amy, may you feel the love of a thousand hugs, and know that there are many people rooting for David and reaching out a hand to hold you steady when you need it.  Know that you are not alone.

Kirsten

 

Filed Under: Illness, positive thoughts Tagged With: , , , , , , ,
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A Captain’s Courage

January 9, 2011 By

I find that I am posting twice on some days now.  I wish I didn’t have the material that allows me to do so.  I wish that I didn’t have a friend keeping vigil at her critically ill baby boy’s hospital bed.  But I do, and Amy – a woman with immense strength and bravery – is in need of any many prayers and positive thoughts that she can possibly get for her son, David, affectionately referred to as Captain Snuggles.

This kid is amazing.  He is not even a year old and he has been through a liver transplant, intubation, countless medications, complications, skin blistering and sloughing away – and he is hanging in there.  He is not doing well.  His kidneys are acting up, to the point where this tiny little human being could end up on dialysis.  His lungs are acting up, so the doctors having to up his ventilator settings and are now looking at upgrading the ventilator itself.

But he is hanging in there.

This is one brave, brave little boy.

Let’s all help him to be brave.  Let’s help his Mom to be brave.

Please.

Those positive thoughts that people have been sending out for Amy and the Little Cap’n?  They are being noticed.  The nurses in the hospital have commented on the atmosphere in David’s room.

So let’s keep it going, people.  Let’s keep that energy flowing, bright and beautiful, to Amy and David.

Thank you so much for caring.
Kirsten

For a full update, please check out Amy’s blog.

 

Filed Under: Illness, positive thoughts Tagged With: , , , , , ,
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I Thought It Would Be Hard

January 8, 2011 By

Captain Snuggles

I thought it would be hard to do this one-post-a-day thing, but I find myself with an abundance of material.  Sure, it can be hard to find the time to write, what with a full-time job, a long daily commute, and the whole parenting enchilada.  But I find that the key element is having the seed of an idea in my head.  If I have that to start from, the words flow easily.  To be fair, these are early days, and I’m only one week into this challenge.  A month or six months from now I may be singing a different tune entirely.  But for now, I’m finding this OK.

I thought it would be hard to run a half-marathon.  I was overweight, unfit, and didn’t feel capable of walking down a flight of stairs.  But I planned and trained, I lost weight and got fit.  I still thought it would be hard, because you know, thirteen miles is thirteen miles.  I reasoned, though, that this was two and a half hours of running, of merely putting one foot in front of the other.  Compared with what my son George has to endure, trapped in his world of autism, day in and day out, two and a half hours of running didn’t seem to be too bad.

I thought it would be hard to be a special needs Mom.  I remember sitting in the doctor’s office, receiving the diagnosis, listening to the doctor tell us everything that George would never achieve (some of which he has, in spectacular fashion, since accomplished).  I thought that parenting my beautiful boy would be a lifetime of challenges and heartbreaks.  And yes, there is some of that.  There are days when it all seems too much, when I want to ask the gods of fate why they picked me to fulfill this extremely challenging role in the life of another human being, one who needs special care and attention.

But when I compare that to what some other parents have to go through, it doesn’t seem too bad.  About fifteen years ago, I attended the funeral of a seven-year-old girl who had died from a diabetic complication.  My fiance’s cousin lost his seventeen-year-old son to cancer a little more than a year ago.  Witnessing parents burying their children is awful.  It’s the saddest thing in the universe.

My friend Amy – someone I met through the magic of the Internet just a couple of months ago – is watching over her son David, a.k.a. Capt. Snuggles.  The Captain has a genetic disorder that three of his brothers were also born with.  Nathaniel had just five days on earth before this disease – Citrullinemia – took him from his parents.  Jonathan and Zachary received transplants to “cure” them.  David received a transplant as well, but he is so deep in the woods right now that medical experts are struggling to bring him out.

The last few months have been a series of setbacks and progressions.  Some days good, some days bad.  Right now, things are not looking great, and Amy is now having to endure conversations about “Do Not Resuscitate” orders.

Miracles can happen.  I am writing this in the belief that Capt. Snuggles is going to pull through this and go home to live with his family.

I thought it would be hard to raise a child with autism.  But what I have to go through is nothing compared to what some other parents have to endure.  At least my child is alive.  At least I can kiss him goodnight with the reasonable expectation that I will get to hug him when he wakes up the following morning.

When I think about Amy and her family, and what they’re currently living with, I find myself grateful – tearfully, overwhelmingly grateful – for every single second I have with my boys.

(Click here to read Amy’s story)

Photo credit: Amy (http://transplantedx3.wordpress.com)

Filed Under: Illness, postaday2011 Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,
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Raising A Little Chi…

January 7, 2011 By

I am writing this tonight on behalf of someone I have never met in person, yet who I have come to care about a great deal.  Amy is a fellow writer on World Moms Blog, which I am honoured to be a part of.  Amy and I have been getting to know one another through our respective blogs.  She is one of the bravest people I know.  For the last few months, she has been pretty much living at the hospital, at the bedside of her infant son, David, who is very sick with a genetic disorder.

And now Amy and David need your help.  David is in serious trouble – so serious that doctors are talking to Amy about DNR’s for her son (do not resuscitate).  There is a very real possibility that Amy, who has already lost one child to this illness, will have to say goodbye to her precious little boy.

Amy’s story can be found here: http://transplantedx3.wordpress.com/2011/01/07/a-call-to-arms/

I am choosing to believe that a miracle is still possible.

I am posting this, sending it out to whoever I can, in the belief that the greater the number of people who send out positive energy into the universe for Amy and David (a.k.a. Capt. Snuggles), the more chance we’ll have of a positive outcome.

So please, wing a prayer for Amy and David.  Think positive thoughts, send out some good chi into the universe.

Kirsten

Filed Under: Illness, positive thoughts Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,
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