BLOOD DONOR BECOMES GIVER IN DEEPEST SENSE.

Byline: Kathleen Vallee Stein

HE told me the other guy passed out, right in the middle of it. He, on the other hand, was a little light-headed but felt OK.

I looked at the elastic bandage wrapped around my son's left elbow and felt a particular pride that he had joined a rare group of people who may sometimes pass out, but keep on donating blood.

The guy who passed out was a Citrus Community College student in Southern California. I hope he will someday return to donate blood again, because it is clear his motives were pure. My son managed to remain conscious during the donation and probably will give again. I once felt light-headed after giving blood and didn't go back for 10 years.

I am not a joiner. I abhor committees of any kind. I stay away from organized religion and haven't gotten around to joining any women's auxiliaries.

After my bad experience of almost passing out, I returned to blood donation only after both of my parents received life-saving transfusions. I was grateful and wanted to return the favor to someone else's parent, child or loved one.

My husband joined me the last time I donated blood at City of Hope, a national cancer hospital in Duarte. As he rolled up his sleeve, the nurse told him that some people donate blood to mark the anniversary of the death of a loved one.

Giving the gift of life as a tribute to the memory of a special person is a thoughtful way to remember. For the recipient of the life-giving blood, it has a value that cannot be measured in money, flowers or the most heartfelt of wishes.

I feel compelled to go every three or four months to let a pint of my blood flow into a plastic bag. I suppose I give because I have a rather rare blood type and feel an obligation to my fellow B-positives. All in all, it seems the most direct way to help someone who is struggling with grave illness.

Almost everyone I know can give blood, but it doesn't occur to them to do so. People who have witnessed their family members in desperate need simply do not make the connection. Perhaps it is too personal or the needles make it fearful, and consequently people shy away.

I feel a particular lift after I give blood, precisely because I have made a very personal connection to someone in need.

A woman at work had a friend who was facing surgery. Her friend who had cerebral palsy was planning elective surgery to help alleviate the symptoms. My co-worker put out a call to everyone she knew to donate blood on her friend's behalf.

When I went to the donation center at the hospital where the surgery was to take place, I found out that eight people had donated for her. The people at the donation center were impressed, especially since none of the donors were family members.

Water and food, companionship and love sustain us all. Those brave souls who donate blood truly give a precious gift. They sit and read a magazine - some oblivious to, some acutely aware of, the needle in a vein. No matter how they cope with the small discomfort, surely they are inspired by the knowledge that what they give can literally save a life.

What a tiny loss a pint of blood is to a healthy person. What a giant gift blood donors give.

In the heat of a crisis, with a life hanging by a thin red thread, doctors and nurses send down to the blood bank for a pint of hope. The bank is only as solid as its donors, as good as the heart of gold that stops for an hour from a busy life to give. Stop and think, stop and ponder, stop and consider how much the gift of blood can mean.