secondary testing, check

So today was the big day. Well, not the big day, but the first mini-big day. I went in for the secondary blood work for the bone marrow donation registry.

The experience did not start out well. Getting out of our driveway and to the base was difficult. Our village's fasching parade was today and every stinkin' street out of our neighborhood was blocked off. Except, of course, for the one that takes you on such a round-a-bout route that the drive takes 45 minutes. (When there is no traffic it takes less than 10 minutes to get from our driveway to the clinic.) Good thing I left early!

But once I arrived, things went smoothly. The lab had my boxes and knew right where to get them. That was a relief since Mr. C had told me that the boxes sometimes get misplaced. There was absolutely no line to speak of, which was great since I had all four kids with me. I got to walk right back to the chair and have a seat. To top it off, I only had to get stuck twice. That is great for me; I have terribly uncooperative veins.

For those curious about the process, there's not much to report. The technician drew six vials of blood and packed them up into a box. The end. I know, right? I thought there would be some cool way of transporting them back to the states. Like, I don't know, dry ice or something. I'm a little bummed. Oh well.

I did ask the technician how many of these they do. He said that they get quite a few of the boxes in but that not many people come in to get their blood drawn. How strange is that? They give you every opportunity to say no when you are on the phone with them. I have to admit, it makes me think. I wonder what the rates are for individuals declining to participate. If there are three of us who were a match, what are the chances that all three of us will submit to the second round of testing? And of that group, who is likely to bow out at the last minute? How scary must it be to be on the other side of this situation?

I hope that I have the resolve to stick it out. Right now I can't imagine saying no if they tell me that I'm the best match. How do you really know, though?

a different kind of blast from the past

I am struggling with whether to put this here or not. It's a little premature, but I'm so floored by it that it's bumped our "big move" right out of the front of my head. You know it's got to be huge to do that.

No, I'm not pregnant. Geez, Danny.

When I was active duty and stationed in Florida, I went to a bone marrow donation registry event. I don't remember the details; either someone's kid or brother (maybe?) was very ill and needed a bone marrow donor. They couldn't find one in the registry and no family member was a good match so they did a drive at the base. I, along with several of my co-workers, went to add myself to the registry. I have thought about it very little over the years, although it did cross my mind a few weeks ago. I wondered if I should re-register because how on earth would they find me?

The answer: Through my mother and my brother-in-law. Apparently I listed them both as contacts in the event that I moved. I don't remember that part at all, but I can now tell you that it is an effective system. I got a phone call from both within 12 hours of each other, letting me know a man had called saying that I am a possible match for someone who is really sick.

Suddenly, that is all I can think about. I am a possible match for someone. Somewhere out in this big world there is an individual who is ill and there is a possibility that I can help make him or her well again. The very thought is surreal.

Over the course of the past 24 hours I have learned that I am not the only possible donor for this individual. It sounds like there may be three of us, although nobody has given me a number. I don't know if the other donors have been found or if they have agreed to further testing. I hope that they do. I hope that one of us is a great match and that his (generic "his" as I do not know anything about who this patient is) story can end happily. I hope it with such intensity that it is almost a prayer...and some of you know how hard prayer is for me.

I am scheduled to do the secondary testing next week. They have to send a kit over here from D.C. "Mr. C" (the donor dude) told me that the testing process takes 4-13 weeks to complete, after which time they will let me know if I am a good enough match. If I am, the procedure would take place relatively soon after that.

I've always wondered how I would react to something like this. You always hope you know but you can never be sure. I am so grateful to have just gotten this notice because now I know that my very first and purest thought was that I was so happy to be able to help someone. I will always know that and it means so much. This may yet be the year that I find my faith. Sometimes I feel like it's close. I'm just not there yet.

One final observation before I go, just to let you know the quirky, irreverent Amanda is still with you. I find this one fact absolutely hysterical: We were watching a television show when my mom called to give me the message. The show? True Blood. Now how funny is that?