Blood Signal

Dearest Rachel –

Well, this turned out to be something of a shaggy dog story; one of those things that get started, meanders about a bit, and finally resolves without much actual participation on my part. But it’s something that doesn’t happen every day – even (especially?) on a cruise ship –so I might as well tell you about it. Besides, it involves something that you used to do quite a bit: donating blood.

I have to admit, I was never as enthusiastic about giving blood (let alone platelets) as you were. I used to be better at it in high school, but it got more difficult for me in college. As it so happens, when I would participate in my high school’s blood drive, those of us who were donating would do so lying down; in college, we would be seated in something akin to a deck chair. That little bit of being propped up made all the difference, in terms of blood rushing out of my head and making me dizzy.

I knew it was for a righteous cause, and while I didn’t want to share weakness in front of you and Elizabeth – the both of you could manage without any visible signs of discomfort; the thought that I couldn’t tolerate something that seemed so easy for the two of you annoyed me no end – it wasn’t a pleasant experience for me until the ordeal was over with. You might remember me whistling the “Promenade” from Mussorgsky’s “Pictures at an Exhibition” (a musical theme I used to find either of you in a crowd; or more to the point, allowing you to find me) in a minor key, and both of you were at my side in an instant, aware that this was a subtle indicator of distress. I eventually recovered, of course, but I probably should apologize for having worried the two of you somewhat needlessly back then.

And while it was kind of fun to have that musical bat signal to summon the two of you, I will admit to not having enjoyed the sensation of being so lightheaded. Part of it, however, was my own fault – in an effort to get the whole process over with, I would generally squeeze the ball I was given to hold onto pretty hard, in order to make the blood flow into the IV, and thereby fill the pint bag that much quicker. Needless to say, the faster I would do this, the faster the blood ran out of my head, and the stronger the sensation of lightheadedness would be. So all of the unpleasant effects of this process were on me.

Back in the day,

Meanwhile, since it didn’t bother you nearly as much, you continued to donate blood on a regular basis. I can’t recall what, specifically, your schedule was – although I think you would occasionally ask me to help you remember your appointments, so it seems you would have trouble with that, too – but you made a point of going out to LifeSource to donate, not just blood, but platelets. In fact, that’s one of the things you convinced Daniel and me to join you with on the very day that Covid came to Illinois, and the lockdowns were first instituted; it would be our last day out together for a very long time. I still remember sitting in the chair with the tube hooked up to my vein while I was listening to the governor and the mayor talk about the situation, and what they had planned for the rest of us for the two weeks that would become months. Ironically, we also went and voted in the primaries that same day, thereby going from one bloodsucker to another, as I put it.

So, with all your background set up, here’s a little bit of cruise ship background to put this all together. I should start by mentioning that of the six of us at our dinner table, only one other of us is a newbie like myself; the married couple and the mother-daughter pair are all what they introduced themselves as “niners”: they’re on for the full nine months. Somewhere along the way last night, the topic of conversation came to a code announcement of “Alpha-Alpha-Alpha” rather late on in the first leg of the cruise; you might recall I had to look that up the last time I was on a Royal Caribbean cruise, and discovered it was their code for a medical emergency. It turns out that one of the passengers on this cruise passed away at some point (it had actually shown up in my news feed online – you didn’t think the cruise line would announce it, would you?); an elderly lady about whom no other details were given, but the others recalled the emergency announcement.

At the risk of seeming a little callous, I will say that “it happens.” It’s why cruise lines plan for these sort of events. Many passengers – especially those with the means to take a trip like this – are up in years, and all that time catches up with them, turning the whole concept of “a trip of a lifetime” all too literal.

Anyway, it wasn’t long after this discussion that there was an announcement over the public address system. Not the usual (can I call it that, if I’ve only heard it once in a dozen such trips?) “Alpha-Alpha-Alpha,” with its attempt to not alarm the passengers, but one actually directed at us passengers. I won’t quote it verbatim, since I can’t remember the specifics that well, anyway, but it seemed that a fellow passenger was in need of a blood transfusion, and “would anyone with A-positive blood please report to Guest Services in order to donate?”

Well. Any other type, and I could have ignored this. But that so happens to be my blood type. It would seem that I’d been given a bat signal of my own.

However, we were in the process of being served dinner at that moment; we’d polished off the appetizer courses, and our entrees were on their way. It felt inconvenient to abandon my meal for this, even if it was an emergency. My table mates prevailed upon me to wait until after the meal; after all, mine isn’t a particularly rare type, so it was quite possible that the call for donors had been answered by others.

And as it turned out, by the time our waiter brought out dessert – and I inquired about the situation, such as he was aware of it – he acknowledged that there had been plenty of people volunteering to offer a pint out of their arms for the sake of the cause. In fact, he seemed mildly impressed at how many people had been willing to donate blood on such short notice like that. It does occur to me that Valentine’s Day might be particularly appropriate for folks to be willing to contribute to such a cause – although I doubt the average person’s volunteer spirit would be diminished by much on any otherwise ordinary day – given its association with hearts and everything connected to them.

I later confirmed with Guest Services, and they told me much the same thing, offering thanks for my willingness to donate, but assuring me that everything was already well in hand. I certainly hope that whoever needed it got it in time, and is doing better for it. But that’s where things stand and, whether privacy laws like HIPAA or whatnot apply while at sea, I doubt I’ll find out anything more about this. But I still thought you might be interested to hear about it.

Anyway, I’ve got to get on with my day, honey, so keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it – as will whoever it was that needed my blood, come to think of it.