The Irish Don’t Want My Blood
Or blood from any Latin American…
Another day was coming to an end. I finished the dishes and sat down for a few minutes with my phone. My husband was outside with our two young daughters, and I had a moment for myself before the whole bedtime routine shenanigans started. So, I did what most modern people would: I scrolled on social media.
One video caught my attention and left me bewildered.
The reel was a call for blood donors in Ireland. This sweet girl, only twenty-three years old, begins the video by saying she has only fifty days to find a bone marrow donor for a chance of being cured and remaining alive. Lais Basílio went through many sessions of chemo before she learned a transplant was her last resort. And the clock is ticking for her.
There’s a strong Brazilian community in Ireland and a strong cultural sense and camaraderie, too. I don’t know all the Brazilians living on this island—I couldn’t possibly know them all, we’re over 55,000 people. But I still feel some connection to my compatriots, and I’m eager to help whenever I can.
I wouldn’t be able to help Lais. For starters, my blood isn’t the right type. What I didn’t expect, though, was that I couldn’t help her, even if I were the perfect match.
