Showing posts with label blood transfusion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blood transfusion. Show all posts

Friday, December 21, 2012

Wonderful Life


Anyone who knows me well – or has browsed my Facebook page or picked up a copy of my book or even sat next to me on a bus for five minutes – knows that when it comes to “It’s a Wonderful Life,” I have a freakish attachment to this movie. I named my baby after the guardian-angel character, Clarence. My book’s title, Zuzu’s Petals, is a direct nod to one of the movie’s defining scenes. And since my 20s, I’ve watched this holiday classic one to four times each year.

"Help me, Clarence. Please. I want to live again."
Without fail, I cry unabashedly every time I get to a particular scene, you know the one: George Bailey leaning over the bridge, head bowed, hands clasped, tears streaming down his face as he implores Clarence to help him, to let him live again. Irrational as it may be, I find myself worrying that maybe this time George’s angel won’t come through. I blubber like a big old baby and wonder what if Clarence doesn’t answer his plea for help?

But you know what? He always does. That angel always comes through.

At some point in our lives, there’s a good chance that we’ll each feel like George Bailey, like things are hopeless, so much so that the only way out of our predicament would be with the help of angels. For some, our George Bailey Moment comes in the form of needing blood transfusions – for ourselves or for someone we love – and wondering if that blood will be there.

Last month, an old friend forwarded me a plea for help from another friend of hers. This man’s daughter, Katherine, was fighting for her life in the intensive care unit and was in need of massive amounts of a less common type of plasma. Apparently, she was depleting the hospital’s supply at a much faster rate than they could replenish it. The tone of the original e-mail was one of frantic urgency, the kind reserved for situations that are equal parts hopeless and hopeful. Situations that could really use an angel.

Having interacted with blood centers across the US for 12 years now, my initial message to Katherine’s father was one of hope: have faith in the vast network of non-profit blood centers to do what they do best: collect and manage blood, and, if necessary, transport it across the country to the people who need it, people like his daughter. I remained positive because, from personal experience, I know how absolutely essential optimism is in a situation like this.

And yet.

What if those who could donate the type of plasma Katherine required didn’t respond to this kind and desperate father’s plea for help? What if the blood centers weren’t able to come through for her? I kept checking Katherine’s CaringBridge and Facebook pages for updates, eager for news about a young woman I’ve never met. 

In the end, countless people responded to the plea for help, and Katherine was treated with more than 340 units of plasma. And then she was sent home.

In my worldview, angels are not just ethereal beings reserved solely for the afterlife. There are plenty of angels on earth, as well as potential angels waiting to awaken to their desire to serve. Sometimes, we’re the ones in need of an angel. And other times, we are called upon to be an angel for someone else.

I know I’m not alone in my gratitude for all the earthly angels who come through time and again for us blood recipients. Whether they’re blood donors or blood services professionals, they truly make this a wonderful life.



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Download a PDF of the first 4 chapters of Lauren's memoir, Zuzu's Petals: A True Story of Second Chances, free.  Click here and go to the link below the "Buy the Book" button.  Zuzu's Petals is also available on Kindle and Nook.  Hardcover signed and inscribed copies are available at  www.laurenwardlarsen.com. Happy reading!

Friday, July 27, 2012

Rest In Peace, Princess Gargi

If you look at Gargi Pahuja's Facebook page, you'll find a quote from holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl: It is well known that humor, more than anything else in the human make-up, can afford an aloofness and an ability to rise above any situation, even if only for a few seconds. 
Sharing a laugh with Gargi


One thing I discovered quickly after meeting Gargi a couple years ago is that she knew how to find the humor in the most dire of circumstances. This was, I suspect, the greatest lesson of living a lifetime with a chronic transfusion-dependent disease. And like Frankl, Gargi was a survivor--with a proven ability to laugh hard and often. 


After connecting through e-mail in 2010, I invited Gargi and her mom to join me at my upcoming book-launch party in San Francisco. Long after most of the party attendees had left, Gargi and I sat laughing and plotting ways to join our respective advocacy efforts. Afterward, my husband asked me who she was because he didn't recognize her but could clearly see that we were old friends. "Just met her," I replied. 


But that's the thing with Gargi. Once she met you, you became an instant "old friend." She didn't waste time slowly building up to a friendship. After all, after being diagnosed with thalassemia as a baby, Gargi wasn't expected to live to see her 12th birthday. The doctors told her parents, "Take her home, enjoy her and don't expect anything from her."


Gargi got the last laugh with her doctors though. Not only did she see her 12th birthday - and two dozen birthdays after that - she also excelled in life: several degrees, non-profit board seats, and some incredible work helping patients around the world. But in my view, Gargi's greatest accomplishment was her solid grasp of priorities. She knew, without hesitation, what was important to her--family, friends, the human connection.


There's another bit of telling detail on Gargi's Facebook page. Her self-description reads: I like to laugh so hard and loud that my insides hurt, twirl until I fall down from being dizzy, have meaningful conversations with 5-year-olds, mix my poisons, and generally do good deeds so that I can come back as a princess in my next life.
With Gargi and Her Family at the FABC Gala Benefit
Though I never witnessed Gargi twirling until she fell, I did witness some of her many good deeds: promoting blood safety for future transfusion-dependent patients, working with her family's charity to help thalassemia patients in India, securing sponsorships for a gala benefit I chaired last November, relocating to Virginia so she could help care for her newborn nephew. Every time I mentioned trying to create a paid position for her with the foundation I was heading up, her response was always the same: "Let's just focus on your needs right now. The rest will work itself out."

Last weekend, Gargi's time on earth came to an end. But I have no doubt that her impact on countless people - myself included - will continue. So let's raise a glass to Princess Gargi, a radiant soul who performed a lifetime of good deeds in a mere 37 years. 


Rest in peace, friend. 

Gargi Pahuja
1975 - 2012