My brother mentioned this to the coworkers at his ad agency, and many of them went over to the hospital and donated. I was overwhelmed. I’ve donated blood every eight weeks ever since.
I took the pic above while giving my latest donation, on Friday. (Which I now realize would have been my dad’s birthday.) I never give much thought as to who might receive my blood, but after the tragedy in Orlando on Saturday, I thought about it a lot.
You can argue gun control. Or how we might stop the terrorists. You can offer your thoughts and prayers. But the tragedies are happening more often, and while it feels helpless, there’s actually one thing you can do: donate blood.
I’ve blogged out it several times, and I mean this as much as ever: donate. It doesn’t hurt. It won’t make you light-headed. It doesn’t even take much time. (You can make an appointment, and in a new option, you can answer the 40 questions about your health before you even show up. Bing, bang, boom.
I was in and out on Friday in a half hour.) Terrorists can suck our asses. We’re better than them.
