Monday, I saved two lives.

I didn't pull anyone from a burning building or talk any despondent soul off a ledge. My action was as unexciting as it was routine -- but no less important.

I donated blood at St. Philip Lutheran Church on north Williamson Road.

For the first time in my nearly 46 years, I rolled up my sleeve and gave the gift of life. And now's a critical time of the year to do so. As the summer months heat up, blood donations to the Appalachian Region of the American Red Cross cool off.

High schools and colleges close during the summer, taking away about 18 percent of the blood agency's donors. Adult donors take vacation. Plants may shut down for a few weeks and don't schedule blood drives.

When the supply runs low, the blood agency has to borrow from other regions. Hospitals have to make the tough call to postpone an elective surgery, saving the precious commodity for emergency situations only.

Patients often scrutinize a hospital for its staff or the latest high-tech equipment. Blood supply seldom comes up in the discussion.

"Nobody goes in wondering if there's enough blood on the shelf. They expect it," said Bob Lutjen, spokesman for the local blood bank.

April brings in the highest donations, Lutjen said, with donors across the region giving about 6,000 to 6,500 pints of blood. That contrasts with July and August, when the agency struggles to get 5,000 pints, he added.

"Our hope is at a time like this to build up a cushion."

That's where good folks at St. Philip step in. The church hosts the largest public blood drive in the 46-county Appalachian region, which stretches from Farmville to Wise County and into West Virginia. The church collects about 120 pints at each of its semiannual drives.

My decision to donate came several weeks ago when Ruth Farmer called me seeking publicity leading up to Monday's drive, the church's 30th. The church also has a drive each October, just in time for the holiday shortage from Thanksgiving to about mid-January. The church also hosts emergency drives occasionally.

I told Farmer that I wouldn't write a column about the milestone drive in advance. I would, however, be willing to attend the event as a first-time donor to give others a glimpse of what giving blood is like -- and hopefully encourage others to give during the summer crunch.

She said OK.

When I arrived at the church Monday afternoon at 12:45, the front parking lot was full. Because I had never donated, I had no idea what to expect.

Lutjen said I'm not alone. Some 38 percent of Americans are eligible to give blood. Each donation, he said, can potentially save the lives of two people in need of plasma and red blood cells.

The Red Cross does not accept donations from the others because of medical reasons or time spent in certain countries.

Of the 38 percent eligible to donate, only 5 percent do so, he said.

"It's a fragile circumstance to start with. This makes it worse," he said referring to the summer lull.

As a newbie to the blood drive process, I received a booklet from Red Cross greeter JoAnn Michael.

It detailed the rules of who can and cannot donate blood. That took about 10 minutes. (I'm a slow reader.) After that, Farmer's buddy, retired nurse Margaret Mitchell, introduced herself.

Affectionately known around the church as "the vampire lady," Mitchell proposed the first drive June 6, 1994, as a community outreach project.

My next stop was the church nursery, converted temporarily to an admissions office of sorts. Along with setting me up on a computer to answer questions about my medical, sexual and travel history, Red Cross worker Melody Carlson took my blood pressure (a little high) and pricked my finger to make sure I wasn't anemic (I wasn't).

Pastor David Derrick, bless him, offered to pray with me if I were nervous. I assured him that while I'm always in need of prayer, I wasn't nervous.

After giving my history, which took about 15 minutes, a volunteer escorted me to a large multipurpose hall that had been converted to the main blood triage room.

I took my place on a cot next to Nancy Ashwell, who would draw my blood.

What struck me most was the friendly fellowship. When you're sitting with a needle in your arm, there's not much else to do but get to know folks around you.

I struck up a conversation with the Rev. Glenn McCrickard, 43, pastor of the Church of the Brethren in Cloverdale. He began donating in high school and has donated nearly 15 gallons of blood.

The room also had a festival-like atmosphere. It was jovial, with food and even a sketch artist floating around capturing donors' images.

Church members had laid out a spread that included hot dogs, sandwiches, homemade cookies, brownies and cake. Heck, I even had a personal attendant. But I wasn't special. Everybody had one.

"My gosh, this is like going to the spa -- except they take your blood," said Jacinda Williams, 32, also a first-time donor. "They took care of my kids, even."

Red Cross worker Mac Woods checked on me periodically and kept me in orange juice as Ashwell felt my arm, pricked my vein and chatted me up as my blood flowed into a plastic bag.

My blood dripped a little slowly, so it took me 12 minutes to give a pint. Usually, Lutjen said, it takes about eight minutes.

The blood is tested in Charlotte, N.C., to ensure its safety and entered into the supply. The whole process, from beginning to end, was less than an hour.

For the chance to help sustain someone's life, that's no sacrifice at all.

Interested in donating?
To give blood, donors must be 17 and weigh at least 110 pounds. The American Red Cross excludes some potential donors. To determine whether you qualify, call (800) GIVE-LIFE (1-800-448-3543)

Shanna Flowers' column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays.

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