The Only Prayer You Need
After work yesterday I drove to a local Knights of Columbus Hall to donate blood. While lying on the gurney with the blood pressure cuff encircling my left arm, inflated to expose a good vein in which to insert the needle, I had some thoughts about gratitude.
How grateful I am, I thought, to have donating blood as a way to give back. I always feel twice-blessed, somehow. Thoreau said splitting firewood warms you twice, first in the physical and later in the burning, and I think it’s like that with giving blood. You take it on faith that the blood will make a difference in another person’s life, but you also get to have the experience of giving, in the moment, having sacrificed something to be there at the appointed hour. All you have to do is show up and lie down on the table and surrender to the process.
I am loosely part of a cohort calling ourselves “The 56ers,” referring to the amount of time required between donations. The goal is to give as often as possible each year, given that parameter. Before yesterday I had not donated in 315 days, my longest drought in fifteen years. One of our cohort found out that blood is biologically a connective tissue, touching all the body’s systems and, after I donate, my B+ (I like my blood type, it’s good advice coursing through my body–“Be Positive”) connects me with someone else or several someone elses.
I pay attention to the amount of time it takes, because why not find a way to compete with each other even about that. Start to finish yesterday I was 4:21, not my best and far from my worst.
I’ve been doing this for many years now and the routine is familiar. We went through all the preliminary health and foreign travel questions including what is your gender, a question that has to be asked in these modern times, and I had my blood pressure taken and my iron level and my pulse. Then I lay down and told her left arm, please, and I squeezed the little rubber ball every five seconds to help with the flow while the blood drained.
I’ve learned some tricks over the years about how to give blood faster, one of which is to not cross your ankles when you’re lying there on the gurney because there’s one long blood vessel that gets crimped if you cross your legs at the ankles. I always like to see the little velvet cushion that’s been made after my blood has been drained into the bag.
Interesting that I’ve been giving blood for so many years now, considering my uneasy relationship with needles for most of my early life. I passed out on more than one occasion, due to the alcohol smell and in my general imagination working overtime. I’m guessing my various surgeries over the years have inured me to it somewhat, being forced to deal with a lot of needles. I’m not sure how I managed to be an EMT for a few years.
The salient point about this, with respect to our Inquiry Into A Gratitude-Inspired Life, is how you can practice anywhere at any time, even in everyday moments that don’t seem to inspire or require thankfulness. It is a bit counter intuitive, after all, to think of being grateful about the chance for getting a needle poked in your arm for some controlled bloodletting. Yet everyday practice in reaching for gratitude can prepare you for the times when you really need it.
Meister Eckhart, the German theologian in the 13th century, once said if the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is “Thank You,” it will be enough. Everything, really everything, can be an occasion for paying attention and saying thank you.
