This is the second part in a three-part series on the experience of donating bone marrow.
By the time you read this, it is likely I will be waking up from surgery to donate my bone marrow to a man with leukemia whom I've never met. Throughout the past few weeks I've been told I'm courageous for making this choice. Quite a few friends and relatives have confessed, "I could never do it."
As I write this, though, I'm not feeling terribly brave. I'm reflecting on my relatively low tolerance for pain and my bizarre ability to consider every possible health risk at every turn ("What's this bump on my leg? A tumor?" "That's a bug bite, Alanna." "That chicken tasted funny. What if I get salmonella from it?" "Then you can sue the restaurant and make lots of money, Alanna.")
My mom, the voice of reason without whom I'd surely descend into hypochondria, advised me to focus my energy on this anonymous recipient. He certainly has his share of good vibes headed his way - my mom has pretty much everyone we know saying rosaries or prayers in synagogue that my bone marrow helps him recover from his disease. Friends I see every day, and those I haven't spoken to since high school graduation, have also offered to help in any way they can.
This outpouring of support is overwhelming, considering that to me the decision to donate my bone marrow was a no-brainer, not a bid for sainthood. Call me na?ve, but I like to believe that if you told any average person, "Unless you do this one thing, someone will surely die," they would do it without hesitation. Well, without much hesitation.
Of course, that's what I've been telling myself, but there is a significant amount of stress involved in this. Over the past few weeks I've had more of my blood tested for various defects than I care to know about. My donation date, Sept. 27, has hovered over my head throughout the semester, intensifying every aspect of my life. As if classes, graduate school applications, and extra-curriculars weren't enough to think about. With all these worries piling up like my neglected textbooks, I feel less than selfless.
At the same time, I'm incredibly excited for this procedure. The whole process of how marrow is harvested from the donor, hand-delivered to the recipient and transfused to them is fascinating. And I hope this gives my recipient more time than he anticipated having. Everyone I've spoken with who has donated their bone marrow remains awed by the incredibly unique relationship between donor and recipient, and say their lives have never been the same since the experience.
It will be a challenge - it already has been - but I haven't regretted my decision yet, and don't think I ever will.
For more info on donating bone marrow: www.marrow.org.
Final part: Recovery, next Monday
