Managing good intentions toward the American Red Cross
If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, I joined the wrong road crew. I love to kick off the holiday season with some sort of service activity. I saw an ad on TV commenting on those who have survived the disasters all over the world this year. The advertisement explained that there are still many people without power in Puerto Rico. It struck me that rather than doing something grandiose, I could always donate blood. Holiday parties often lead to more car accidents which lead to a need for more blood.
It was easy to find a donation site. I Googled the Red Cross and found half a dozen upcoming blood drives. There was one nearby this very day, so Jeff and I made appointments.
Unfortunately we’d never been on the college campus where the blood drive was going on. It took us 20 minutes to find a legal place to park. Then we had to walk to the far side of the campus, asking directions along the way before we finally saw the lovely red cross on a white background with a helpful little arrow to guide us.
I admit it’s been a long time since I gave blood. I think I was turned down the last time because of anemia. But once we had read several pages of information, we waited to be officially screened.
The worker took my blood pressure, (104 over 68) asked my weight, (000) took my pulse (70) and then pricked my left ring finger, drawing out a tiny bit of blood he put in a machine. I passed!
I was feeling quite proud of myself when he turned the computer over to me so I could answer some questions. I was sailing through with a clear conscience until I got to the question about traveling out of the country.
Now, lest you think I’m a dimwit for not thinking of it sooner, I had called the Red Cross help line and had already determined that our trip to Ecuador a couple weeks ago didn’t pose a problem. Apparently, none of the areas we visited had elevated malaria risks.
But then the cute little phlebotomist asked “Anywhere else?”
I had almost forgotten our trip to Thailand and China. But I fessed up. Who knew that malaria can live hidden in your bloodstream for up to a year without causing symptoms? I could hear that Jeff was encountering the same problem in the next booth.
The rules are strict and absolute. I know I didn’t get any bug bites on that trip, but that didn’t matter. We had to find our itinerary buried on our phones to recall the names of the places we’d gone.
It was our trip to the Bridge over the River Kwai that eliminated us. That region of Thailand is apparently prone to malaria. “We still want you to have some cookies,” the friendly Red Cross worker, Katherine, told us.
But I had too much pride to raid the treat table after being rejected as a blood donor. We hiked back to our car, hoping that it is indeed the “thought that counts.”
Now every time I have a hot flash, I’ll think I’ve caught malaria, but I learned some interesting facts.
The Red Cross originated at the first Geneva Convention of 1864. It set forth the mission of the autonomous humanitarian organization named Red Cross and its articles were signed as an international treaty. It focused first on relieving injured soldiers and protecting prisoners but eventually morphed into a worldwide organization with chapters in 195 countries. In non-Christian countries, it is called The Red Crescent. In Israel, it’s the Red Star of David.
Shortly after the first Geneva Convention, Clara Barton started the American charter of the Red Cross. Today, ARC has half a million volunteers and about 30,000 employees. They train about 12 million people in first aid each year and are the largest supplier of blood and blood products in the US. They are organized to give relief to disaster and crisis survivors. Blood donations not only supply a safe blood supply, but provide funding to the Red Cross for other humanitarian efforts.
The ARC totals about 67,000 disaster responses annually, with the most common being house fires. They have an excellent ratio of money spent on relief vs overhead.
They wouldn’t take our blood, but I’ll bet they’ll accept our money. That might be an even easier way to buy some holiday cheer.
Only in America, God bless it.