Four years ago she had registered with Ezer Mizion’s Bone Marrow Registry, never expecting to actually be contacted. The call came as a complete surprise. It was the registry informing her that she was a possible genetic match for a young child. She could save his life! She was glad she was home to receive the call. Normally, she would be at work and wouldn’t have received the message until evening, perhaps even a couple of days later when she would get around to checking her messages. But today she was home and she told the caller to send someone right over.
Further testing had to be done and, for that, blood would have to be drawn. “Let’s get started right away,” she said. “I don’t want that child and his parents to suffer a minute more than they have to.” The Registry staff was grateful that she didn’t ask to procrastinate and made arrangements for the blood to be drawn that very day so that testing can begin.
The phlebotomist continues the story.
“I was given the address and dispatched to her home to begin proceedings. I rang the bell and waited. No one came to the door. Another wait. “Perhaps I was given the wrong information… Maybe she’s not home…” With my finger poised to ring again, the door finally was opened. “I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting,“ she tried to smile through what was obviously a lot of pain. “It’s a bit hard for me to get around these days.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, it’s nothing much. I had surgery on my leg a couple of days ago. A bunch of screws and plates are holding me together right now.”
The phlebotomist gasped. “Why didn’t you say something?! We could have put off drawing the blood until you’re feeling more up to it!”
“I didn’t think to mention it. It’s a small thing compared to what the child’s family must be going through. Just some pain. No big deal.”
Her face contorted as she grasped hold of furniture to help her navigate to the blessed relief of a chair. The phlebotomist drew the blood, wondering if angels actually have real blood in their veins.
“The parents must be terrified,” she said, “not knowing if their child will live to grow up. I wanted them to have an answer as soon as possible.”
“With a grimace which was hard to hide, she tried to stand in order to walk me out but I didn’t allow to do so,” the phlebotomist told her story to the staff members upon her return.
Another one of the Ezer Mizion heroes whose pictures grace the walls of the Registry, a veritable Who’s Who of Caring and Compassion.
