By: Adolph Aguirre/American Red Cross

This year, March took on a completely different meaning for my family.

The beginning of the month started with my father-in-law, Pastor Sabino Jose Espinoza, suffering a heart attack caused by a blood clot. He was admitted to the hospital, and after evaluation, doctors determined he needed an ablation procedure to treat his atrial fibrillation. The doctors told us the procedure went well, and he would recover. 

He was released from the hospital and began recovering at home. We were hopeful that the hardest part was behind us.

But things changed. 

While taking blood thinner medication, he began experiencing significant blood loss. Over the next several weeks, our family repeatedly called emergency services as he began showing signs that something was wrong. He was taken back to the hospital to receive treatment and blood transfusions, stabilize and eventually return home.

Doctors performed multiple procedures to identify the source of his blood loss. Despite their efforts, they were unable to determine where the bleeding was coming from. 

During the third week of March, his condition became much more serious.

He became less responsive, and we called for an ambulance. When he arrived at Baylor Scott and White Medical Center White Rock, he was still able to communicate. But his condition quickly deteriorated. His hemoglobin level had fallen to a critically low level, leaving his body without the oxygen-carrying capacity it needed. 

The medical team immediately began stabilizing him. He needed blood.

The hospital turned to the Red Cross for compatible O-positive blood. Because donors had already stepped forward, the lifesaving blood he needed was there when it mattered most. 

At that moment, I was reminded of something I had always known but never experienced so personally.

Earlier that same day, I donated blood. When we arrived at the hospital, before my father-in-law truly took a turn for the worse, I was still wearing the Red Cross T-shirt I received for donating. I loved the design because it said, “Life is good, give blood.” 

I remember joking with my father-in-law that maybe they were giving him one of my units of blood.

At the time, it was a simple joke. But later, I realized the deeper meaning behind that moment. 

I may not have been the person in the emergency room providing the care. I may never know the name of the person who receives my donation. But I now understand how vital that gift becomes when someone’s life depends on it. 

Throughout his medical journey, my father-in-law received a total of 12 units of blood. During his recovery, he required multiple transfusions as doctors stabilized him. 

Today, his story is one of hope and recovery. 

He is home, continuing to heal, spending more time with his family, preparing to celebrate his birthday in August and looking forward to an upcoming celebration honoring his retirement after 41 years of faithful ministry as a pastor. 

Because of blood donors I will never meet, my family has more time. 

More birthdays. 
More conversations. 
More memories. 
More moments with someone we love. 

Before this experience, I understood the importance of donating blood. I knew that blood donations saved lives, but this experience changed the way I see it forever. 

A blood donation is not just a unit of blood. It is a loved one returning home. 
It is a family having more time together. 
It is another chapter in someone’s story. 

I may not be in the emergency room where my donation is being used. I may never meet the person who receives it. But I now understand that when blood is needed, it is not just a unit of blood. It is more time with someone you love. 

The person receiving blood has a name. 

They have a family. They have a story. 

Someone’s decision to donate blood gave my family more chapters in ours.