Blind by Blood

When my mom was young, she had a best friend within her congregation named Sherri. They did a lot together and she was always viewed as the zealous one. Sherri’s family was the one everyone looked up. One day while in high school Sherri fell extremely ill and blacked out on multiple occasions. She was diagnosed with some sort of extreme blood loss and refused to receive treatment involving a Blood transfusion. At that point, it would’ve been the only way offered as the only way to save her. Unfortunately, Sherri and her family kept refusing treatment and she died soon after.

My parents were married for 8 years before I was born to them, and my mom had given me her best friend’s name; Miranda Sherri Noonan. Here is where the irony comes into play; Only 8 weeks after my birth, I experienced hemorrhaging. The story of the following was constantly told to me and held over my head but in a very different way until I was much older. I was brought into the hospital after experiencing an extreme loss of blood. The doctors scrambled over me as they struggled to find equipment small enough for an 8 week old baby. My parents naturally reached out to those whom they trusted most to come be at their side; My uncles, the elders, and other friends from their congregation. After some time and struggling the doctors required me to receive a blood transfusion as that would be the only way to save me from completely bleeding out. My parents and the elders all fought against it and demanded another solution be sought out.

During that period, my heart had stopped. I had completely flatlined and was pronounced dead to my family. A new doctor had been asked to come and examine me moments prior to the flatlining. He had randomly located a straw within his coat pocket left from his lunch break taken only moments earlier. From there, he demanded all nurses and practices return to their stations and went through with the procedures necessary for a blood transfusion. His decisive and rapid actions saved my life and they were able to bring me back- post flatlining- within moments. I never received complete medical details of the situation that occurred. Only that this doctor had gone against my parents wishes, demanded I receive a second chance and somehow turned a plastic straw into a life saving medical instrument.

I would only meet him once more 7 years later by pure happenstance with only 10 minutes to hear that side of the abbreviated story. My parents would go on to credit Jehovah for the miracle that had occurred with only brief acknowledgement of the doctors intervention. Not once would my family credit the life I am given to a blood transfusion- so avidly frowned upon by the JW community.

My parent’s version goes much more like “Jehovah sped up the car. He had the elders arrive just in time to pray over everything that was happening. Jehovah gave you a second chance.” The fact that I had received a blood transfusion, was not even told to me until I was 16. At this point in my life I’m blind in one eye. I could never see out of it and doctors frequently blame it on my incident at 8 weeks old.

I wonder sometimes if I had just received the treatment, if I’d be able to see. - - - - For anyone who has lost someone for not accepting medical procedure due to religious beliefs, there are no words. It is a thoughtlessly hurtful indescribable injustice. There is no love in denying someone the care that they rightfully deserve.