Cas is currently and still rather
It’s official. I am a special and wonderful person. I’ve even got the letter and some cards to prove it.
One of the main reasons I give blood is because a fair few of those I know and love have had to rely on donated blood at one point or another, and feeling a bit icky one afternoon every four months after a donation is a tiny price to pay for all the good you are doing. I also give blood because it is a prerequisite to donating bone marrow.
When I was younger a very good friend tragically died from recurring childhood leukemia. For nearly seven years she relied on regular bone marrow transplants and, as none of her family were a match, all the bone marrow came from donors, so I have seen first hand the enormous amount of good this procedure can provide.
For one reason and another (mainly badly timed piercings, tattoos, and illness) it has taken me till a couple of months ago to get on the Bone Marrow Register. So I was overjoyed this morning when the following letter and card arrived in the post.
Link to the nice letter I got with the card.
I just hope that I never get called, because if (when) I do, that means someone is in a similar situation to Lily and her family, and no one should be in that situation.
Now I’m not saying you all should up and join the British Bone Marrow Register (or whatever your regional equivalent is). That’s something for each and every one to think about with regards their individual circumstances, but please do take a moment to think on it. I know Lily would never have seen her 12th birthday if it hadn’t been for the kindness of complete strangers. When held against the benefits, the transient pain and discomfort experienced by a donor pales into insignificance.
(And yes, if you are curious, I am also a registered organ donor. It’s not as if I am going to need them when I’m dead now, is it?)
There, that’s me done with the guilt tripping. I’m off to be told how monumentally unfit I am by a man at the gym.