But the second I walked into the lobby, I was struck in the gut with intense pain, fear and anxiety. The sirens outside, the wheelchairs, the oxygen tubes, the parents tending to their sick little ones, Children's Hospital was more than I could handle.
But I was there on a mission...to donate blood for a friend whose daughter is having heart surgery on the 13th, and I was determined to push forward.
Sitting in the waiting room, reading my study material for my church's life group (learning how to tear down all of my walls, be radically honest with myself and tear open my heart for God to look at and work on), it was there that the tears started to pool up. Several donors around me answered questions of why they were there to other inquisitive donors...
my best friend's niece has brain tumors, and she isn't doing great.
My sister's kid is having issues. I'll do anything I can to help.
And I think, I am so lucky. My kids are so healthy. I get so impatient sometimes but they are perfect. I do my best never to take them for granted, but when this despair is around you, it's impossible not to bow down to God in humility and gratitude.
It's my turn to go in and I know I have the same blood type, but only wonder if I have the right matching antibodies. Little do I know going in that my iron count has to be 12, and it falls short with an 11. She thanks me for coming all this way, but it wasn't meant to be.
I hold all of the emotion in until I get to my car, where the tears come rushing down. It's there in the hospital parking lot that I feel free to cry, face buried in my hands, knowing there have been many others who broke down in that very space. I wish I could help. I wish I could do more. If not for my friend's daughter, then for any kid in that hospital.
I pulled myself together so that the tears didn't blur my vision while driving, and as I left the parking lot, a medical transport helicopter was landing on the hospital roof. I wondered about the parent who is facing the heartbreak of their lifetime right now, and I felt such agony for that stranger. I cried all the way back to work.
I feel ripped open and raw. It hurts.
Go to the drug store and get a multivitamin (Mmmmm -- Flintstones!) and get a slow release iron pill (like Slow Fe). Take those for a week or so, then try going back to donate again. :)
ReplyDeleteYour effort is much appreciated. You should totally donate. I used to donate every 3 months and it's not as bad as you think it will be. Plus, you get cookies and juice at the end and some places even give you movie tickets (as if the benefit of doing the right thing isn't enough).
Your friend is lucky to have you but I'm sure she knows that. :)
ReplyDeleteOh, you made me cry, too! Those reminders of how fragile everything is, how it's only the grace of God keeping our lives together, they're valuable but so upsetting!
ReplyDeleteOh, this stirred me! Especially this: "...when this despair is around you, it's impossible not to bow down to God in humility and gratitude." May we all remember that He is worthy of our humility and gratitude, in despair and not. Thanks for sharing your heart here, Robin.
ReplyDeleteOh, oh my, I'm so sorry. It can be so easy to ignore all the suffering around us, to dig down deep into our own lives and only focus on what's bright and pretty and present around us, but this -- this is an important reminder. Take care of yourself, okay? Get your iron levels up and go back. You'll feel better for having done something tangible. In the meantime, thank you so much for sharing this bit of your story; it's raw and inspiring and so, so powerful.
ReplyDeleteEmpathy is a a beautiful, gut-wrenching thing. Thank you so much for opening up to us with your story!
ReplyDeleteI agree with Dwija -- empathy is such a wonderful, terrible emotion to be filled with. It's hard to see all the sadness and know that even if we *can* help, it's a small effort against a giant heartbreak.
ReplyDeleteJust know that to the people you're helping (or trying to help), your efforts are seen and appreciated.
(((Hugs))), friend.
Such a touching post...I know I often forget how lucky I am to have such healthy kids! It's heartbreaking to think about those kids who are so sick, and their parents who ached for their children.
ReplyDeleteThat feeling of raw, ripped openness ... I've found myself there these past few weeks, too. So we mourn. We mourn together, filled with empathy, for the pain and suffering and hurt that surround us. And as you so beautifully stated we bow down in humility and reverence. But yet we weep, too, still. We weep like Jesus wept after Lazerus' death, overcome with the emotion stirring around us. And maybe we weep for the same reasons he wept ... because we were never meant to deal with these hard blows. Maybe we weep for the pain and tragedy and out of empathy for another's hurt, yes, but maybe we also weep because in our souls we know what's brought us to this weeping point, and it was never supposed to be.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful BPM, Robin. I'll be praying for your friend's daughter's surgery. Thanks for sharing yourself so honestly, compellingly here.
Oh, my heart! This pierced straight through it. That is so, so tough, but it is amazing that you were there in the first place. How many people would have never shown up? As others have said before, get thee some vitamins, and give it another go. I hope everything turns out well for your friend's daughter.
ReplyDeleteI remember when I went to donate blood and they couldn't get a vein. I asked them to keep trying even though I was majorly bruised. When we all gave up I too bawled.
ReplyDeleteAt least you tried. At least you were there... that's the important thing.
Wow, such a moving story. It's sometimes so hard, there is so much around us that we can't fix. We just hug our kids tighter and send up prayers.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing.
so touching. such a moving blog post. thanks for sharing :)
ReplyDeleteOh dangit that is so sad! I know just what you mean. My sweet little nephew was born the smaller of twins and at the age of 1 had to have heart surgery, then at 3 yrs, back surgery, twice. I hated that I couldn't take his place, and even worse I felt so humbled that my kids are so perfectly healthy. How blessed we are! Thank you for sharing this. You really touched a soft spot in my heart!
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