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 I have been a blood donor for thirty-six years. For the first thirteen years, I donated primarily because my parents instilled in me the importance of this selfless act of community citizenship. I never knew just how important it was until December of 1982 when my husband Steve suffered a heart attack. He was only thirty-three years old, and was soon engaged in a struggle for his life, a struggle in which the generosity of blood donors would play a crucial role in his survival.
Steve survived his heart attack, but a catheterization in January showed that he had blockages in his heart. He needed a coronary artery bypass graft (or CABG) to reroute his blood around the clogged arteries. CABG is a common surgery today, but in 1983 it was a still a fairly new procedure. We were living in Houston, Texas at the time, having been transferred from our home in Philadelphia, and Steve would receive the best possible care at a leading hospital.
The surgery was scheduled for January 25. I was filled with anxiety as I sat alone in the corner of a small waiting room surrounded by families whose loved ones were also undergoing surgery that day. I tried to relax, confident that Steve was in good hands, but soon the minutes became hours and I grew more and more anxious.
As I tried to take my mind off the surgery, I saw a board in the corner of the waiting room with the patients’ names and the amount of blood they had required. Most of the numbers on the board were in the low single digits. I was shocked when I saw “Pietrzykowski – 28.”
My heart sank. I knew something must be wrong for my husband to need that much blood. My concern grew as questions and doubts crept into my mind. What if there wasn’t enough blood available for him? Who could I ask to donate here in Houston, so far from my family and friends? Soon the cardiac surgical team appeared in the waiting room. I could tell by their faces that the operation had not gone well. The attending physician explained that, though Steve was alive, he was in critical condition. He has lost a lot of blood while they repaired the aneurysm on his heart. The doctors inserted an aortic balloon pump to help his heart beat and had to put him on a heart lung machine.
Fortunately, due to the generosity of Houston area donors, there was enough blood on hand for Steve. I thought of how my parents had encouraged me to donate, and was thankful that there were other people who understood the need for this generous gift. Steve was not the only patient who would need blood that day, and more patients would need blood tomorrow. Thank goodness there are people willing to give up an hour of their time keep the blood supply full and to help save lives in their community.
Thanks to the work of the hospital staff and the lifesaving blood donations, Steve recovered from the surgery and was able to return home in February. However, our troubles were not over. Steve suffered a pseudo aneurysm rupture from the site of the balloon pump which resulted in profuse bleeding. I called 911, but was informed that all area ambulances were dispatched to other emergencies. He would have to wait until one became available, and there was nothing I could do to stop the bleeding.
I called a friend who is a registered nurse, and she came to my house to help me. We still could not stop the bleeding. All we could do was work to keep him from going into shock. I contacted Steve’s cardiologist at the hospital and explained the situation. He immediately prepped the emergency room and the surgical team for our arrival.
As I sat with Steve waiting for the ambulance, looking at the blood in my kitchen and living room, all I could think of was how much blood he would need, and grew concerned that the hospital would not have enough for him. We had beaten the odds once, and I was scared to take that chance again. The ambulance arrived an hour later, and Steve was rushed to the hospital. He needed four units of blood before he could go into the operating room to repair the pseudo aneurysm in his leg. If that blood wasn’t available, he would have been lost.
Steve survived the operation and, 23 years later, his recovery is my daily miracle. The skill of the surgeons and his will to survive would have meant nothing without the everyday compassion of American Red Cross blood donors.
Steve’s life was saved by men and women whom he will never meet. They sacrificed an hour of their time and a pint of their blood to help a stranger, a stranger who means nothing to them but is very important to me. And though I can never personally thank those wonderful people, I show my gratitude by donating my blood to help those in need and my story to inspire others. So please take the opportunity to donate blood and to encourage others to donate as well. You will make the difference for a person in need.
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