If I can’t find anything,
the person may not survive.
If I don’t do it fast enough,
the person may not survive.
I texted this man at 8:06 PM on April 29, asking if I could add his number to the SOS message he had shared on a relief group and tweet. He needed O+ plasma. For 1.5 hours, I called, texted, verified, and forwarded all leads that I could find.
Just when I had connected him with a plasma donor, he messaged me this.
I became numb and kept staring at the screen. I took the screenshot and sent it to two people, asking if there was a way I could cope with this.
Before this, I kept avoiding one lurking thought: the consequence of failing to find things and on time is death. Many deaths. And here, we had almost made it. Almost.
I did not grieve; it demanded time, and I simply did not have it: a luxury so many do not possess right now. I searched through the messages to find somebody who needed plasma and got them connected.
And so, I had witnessed it: the frightening wretchedness of the system — if it can be called a system at all. Two realities exist, and juxtaposing them, ironically, renders the contrast unreal.
For long, I did not do any of it because my deteriorated mental health refused to allow for it. But, when it gripped the people around me, I could not look away. One cannot.
It looked distant only until it wasn’t.
So, please, help. Devote 2–3 hours every day to do this. Engage in relief work. Donate, volunteer, amplify, find leads, verify them, make calls, connect people, help in procuring supplies — everything is valuable. Because if you do any of this,…
… this may happen
And, it fills one with immense hope, which is scarce.
