Hospitals, Blood and Cells - My November Highlight
November, for me, is going like any other month. Work, surprise, work, work, more work again. Also, as usual, by the second week of the month I'm just trying to get by, get to the end of the month. One thing however, happened in the second week of November. My sister was booked for an elective cesarean section, so she needed someone to donate a pint of blood in case the need for blood arose. I volunteered.
Prior to that moment I had never donated blood. I heard a story of someone who donated blood and was about to leave the hospital when he collapsed. They had to transfuse his blood back into him. Whether this is true or false, I don't know, but I became apprehensive.
Anyway, Tuesday 12th November, I went to the hospital with my sister. Immediately we drove into the premises, the familiar smell I hated so much greeted me. It wasn't pungent. It's the mild smell of pills and potions that makes the air sterile. I don't like sterile, I like creative and reproductive. The smell reminded me of painful childhood memories when I had to see the doctor at the Nigeria Police dispensary in Yola. The doctor,ever smiling, brown teeth contrasting sharply with his white coat. The doctor who poured a half bottle of hydrogen peroxide into a hole in my knee and didn't cringe when brownish-white foam shot out of the sore. That was what the hospital reminded me of that fateful Tuesday.
We made our way to the maternity ward where she signed herself in before we made our way to the phlebotomy lab. There, we found a queue. Most of the people there looked pissed, but one man was different. He was heavy-set, dark complexioned and balding at the crown. One could hardly read the expression on his face. Just when you think it's fear, it changes to resignation, then determination and so on, but not anger. He had with him a little of people who wanted to donate blood for his child, a sickle cell patient.
In my presence, while I waited for my turn, they tested all the people who were with, about seven of them, none of them was a match!
I got tested and they began to draw blood from me, I then struck a conversation with the lab technologist about the situation of the man outside. He told me that the man’s child is a certain blood group, and they needed a genotype AA blood for the child. I was surprised. All my life, I thought both blood group and genotype have to match for transfusion to take place. I learnt that only the blood group is required to match, but I this case, the child needs AA genotype blood as that will help the child to heal.
“Can you take two pints from me, then?” I asked, by now, my fear was gone as I watched my blood flow into the sachet by the foot of the bench. “You can help another sickle cell patient that needs it.”
First he told me that he can't risk taking two pints of blood at that time. He then asked me when I tested for genotype. That was when I told him that the first one I did certified me AS, the second test result said AA. Technologist urged me to do a third test and if it's AA, I should look for patients myself in the wards, if I want to donate because any blood I donate via the hospital will be sold to the patient at full price.
My spirit sank when I saw how people suffer from sickle cell. I couldn't bear to stay longer than I should in the hospital.
PS - My sister gave birth the following day. I've gone to renew my ‘uncle’ title at the Local Government Area office.
About to get 'em offering at the naming ceremony of my nephew.