The year 2018 was a rough time for my family. The biggest bomb we learnt was that my father had to do a life-or-death surgery. I remember sitting in silence on my way home one night, being shocked at the news. This was particularly hard on us because we didn’t know what the outcome would be. Will he be okay? The first question I asked. It was tough to process.

On the “scheduled” day of the surgery, we went to the hospital to visit Daddy. We saw him off after he was being prepped for the operation. Half an hour after he went into the operating room, my mother received a call. It was my dad. I don’t think she realized, but I saw her starting to breathe uncontrollably, as if she was having a panic attack. It was like the blood was rushing from her face because of the news she heard.

“They can’t operate on me because they don’t have enough blood. They have to postpone the surgery until tomorrow.”

Wait. What?

WHAT?!

At the time, the Blood Bank did not have enough blood to allocate to the hospital to operate on my father. There is a system employed by the organization to send out a few bags to hospitals in case of special emergencies because there is a shortage. My dad’s case was not special enough. We were informed that even if we rushed to give blood, there was no guarantee that he would have gotten it.

I was trying to wrap my mind around what I just heard. Postpone? What if he gets worse? My father, who had done nothing but love his God, his family, neighbours, and good music, is not worth saving in the moment? However, the life of one who is hell-bent on taking the lives of others and receives gunshot wounds is worth saving? (That’s a bad thing to say, but it was my reality). Are you the ones experiencing utter discomfort, attempting to mentally prepare yourself to do this again? What if the blood is not available tomorrow, what then?

This was a most hurtful episode and it was not anyone’s fault. I could not blame the hospital for following protocol. I could not blame the Blood Bank for attempting to make do with what they had. I couldn’t blame Jamaicans for not giving their blood to save others, including my father. If only I could give blood. If only there was a way…

My dad got the blood the next day and had a good surgery. Turns out, he was a “mighty” man and didn’t need it after all. He has recuperated by the grace of God, and I am incredibly indebted to Him for pulling my father through. For pulling us all through. However, the what-ifs still cross my mind. A similar case might have happened to some other family in this country, and maybe they were not as blessed as we were.

But what if we could prevent this from happening? What if we all could prevent a scare like that from happening to families? What if we could keep our friends around for a long time by giving blood? If we can, we definitely should. In fact, we should not only wait until special occasions or when emergencies arise to do so. Besides, the life you save could just be your own.

^{Photo taken in my dad’s hospital room (2018)}