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Posts Tagged ‘good deed’

I ran into a friend of mine today who I had not seen since I woke up from my Nap. He runs the Canadian Blood Services, so I told him I availed myself of his organization’s services several times while in the hospital. I have no memory of any of it, but when you get blood, they send you a letter telling you exactly what you got and when, and my list was long.

I felt oddly guilty when I got the letter, because I have never donated blood. It isn’t for lack of trying, though. I’ve been rejected several times, first for being anemic and the subsequent times for being on medication for Fibromyalgia. That one annoyed the hell out of me, because you can be on way higher doses of the same meds I took for the FMS for other conditions and that’s fine, but if it is if for FMS, they show you the door. The reason I was given was that if your FMS was bad enough to be medicated, you weren’t healthy enough to handle giving away a pint of blood. I complained to my friend, who said they were actually changing that and I’d be able to give blood soon. That doesn’t matter any more, because here’s the biggest irony: now that I’ve been given blood, I can’t donate it.

This frustrated me, much as I understand the reasoning. I think giving blood is one of the most significant mitzvah (good deed) a person can perform. It is easy, anonymous and life-saving. I can’t donate myself, but that never stopped me from nagging those around me.

So anyway, my friend told me that they are always looking for people who have received blood who might have a compelling story to tell. They like to roll people like me out at donor appreciation events, since it puts a human face on the good deed. Donors get to see concrete results from their actions when someone stands up and says, “I am alive because of you.”

I told him I’ll do anything he wants me to do. I can’t give blood myself, but if I can thank those who do, that is at least something. I think I’ll start now: if you have ever given blood, thank you. I really am alive because of you. And if you haven’t, give it a try. Go give blood. It’s easy. It’s fast. And they even give you cookies afterwards. Save a life, get cookies. It’s a good deal.

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I took Jasper for my longest post-coma walk today. We didn’t have time to go to the dog park, so I just walked him to the park near our house, which is very big. There are no dogs allowed, but we still take him because, well, it’s a stupid rule. I get ‘no dogs’ at the play structures, where there are many small children, but in a great big empty field?

On weekends, when it is busy, we keep him leashed. He is very popular, of course, because who can resist a great big teddy bear dog? Okay, some very confused people can, but not many. This weekend, we were at the duck pond in the park. The kids fed the ducks and Jasper sat and watched with great focus, either wishing the kids were tossing him that bread or wishing he could eat the ducks. We didn’t give him a chance to show us which. A couple bylaw officers drove by in their little van, slowing to stare at us, but didn’t stop to ticket us. Even the bylaw officers think the rule is stupid, obviously.

Today, there was no one at the park. I let Jasper off the leash, circled round the very bottom of the park, then started back through a field, still very near to one end. Very far away from the duck pond. Jasper turned into manic puppy and began racing back and forth, buzzing by me like a furry byplane at each pass. As I walked toward the exit, he was running in increasingly large ovals, orbiting me. He’d disappear into a stand of trees, then come tearing out the other side, running full speed. Finally, his loop got so large that he ran up the crest of a small hill very far away from me. On the other side of the hill was the duck pond.

He stopped and stared. I called him and continued to walk away. He looked at me. He looked at the pond. He looked at me again. Praying my strategy would work, I continued to walk away, shouting, “Jasper, this way!” Water and ducks or alpha mommy? Ducks or mom? What a choice for a dog to have.

He picked me.

Lately, when I pick the camera up to take a photo of him doing something cute, he immediately leaps up upon seeing the camera and does this:

How pathetic is that? And it’s not like he’s even in trouble, having wisely made the correct choice.

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