Abbey was flown from Dubbo to Sydney with no idea who she was helping. No name, no age, no country. Just a phone call she almost missed and the chance to donate stem cells to someone who needed her help.
On donation day, she sat in a chair at the hospital with a cannula in each arm, watching her blood loop through a machine that separated out the stem cells and put everything else back. She reckoned it was more comfortable than giving plasma. But the moment that captured what this whole thing means didn’t happen in the hospital. It happened a few days earlier in Dubbo, when her partner Kim had to explain to her seven-year-old daughter why Abbey and her were leaving town for a few days.
Abbey’s special blood
Kim told her daughter that Abbey has special blood that could help somebody who’s really, really sick get better. That was enough to start the questions. Who is it? Where are they? Is it a boy or a girl? A grown-up or a little kid?
Kim didn’t have answers. They didn’t know anything about the person. Not a single detail. Their daughter thought about that for a second and said, “So you know nothing about this person, but you’re going to help them?” Kim said yes. And the seven-year-old just went, “Wow.”
Abbey and her partner Kim on stem cell donation day
Once she understood that Abbey’s body would make the blood back on its own, and that it wasn’t like giving away a kidney or something she’d never get back, she was fine. She wasn’t scared once she knew Abbey was going to be okay. She was just proud.
From a plasma appointment to a phone call
Abbey grew up watching her dad give blood. When she was old enough she started giving plasma, and one appointment she spotted something about the chance to donate stem cells. She told them to take a sample and sign her up. No big decision. Just a yes while she was already in the chair.
She never expected to get the call. So when her phone rang on the way to the gym, she let it go to voicemail. Didn’t recognise the number. When she found out she was a match, her first thought wasn’t about pain or needles. It was how do I actually make this work from Dubbo? Turns out everything was covered. Flights, accommodation, meals, expenses. She didn’t pay for a thing.
Then the dates started moving. Scheduled, postponed, cancelled. Abbey was gutted. A family friend told her something that stuck. Even if the donation never happens, the hope you’ve given that family is worth something on its own. The next week, the call came again. This time it went ahead.
More comfortable than giving plasma
Before donation day, donors have a few days of injections that help their body push more stem cells into the bloodstream. It’s a small needle, once or twice a day, and most people either do it themselves at home or get a GP to help. Abbey’s partner Kim has nursing experience, so she was more than happy to do them.
The side effects were real but nothing dramatic. Muscle aches, some bone pain, a bit of tiredness. Abbey was still working through them. She reckoned the worst of it was one rough Friday night, and she’d also had a cold that week so it was hard to tell what was what.
On donation day she sat in the chair for about five hours. No pain. No tingling. She described it as not quite as relaxing as being in a day spa, but the chair was comfy and it beat a Monday at work. What a legend!
Just her blood going out through one arm, through the machine, and back in the other. Over 1.5 million people around the world have donated stem cells. As Abbey put it, “This isn’t a little science experiment. I think they know what they’re doing.”
If you can help, why not
Abbey donated to a stranger she may never meet. She doesn’t know if they’re young or old, where they live, or what happens next. She might get the chance to make contact one day, but that’s not why she did it.
Her family was always big on helping where you can. If it was someone you loved, you’d hope a stranger somewhere would step up for them. A few days out of her normal routine, no pain worth worrying about, and someone on the other side of the world gets a shot at getting better. For Abbey it was that simple.
She’d do it again tomorrow. No hesitation. And she doesn’t think of herself as a hero. She just hopes that sharing her story might nudge someone else to sign up.
“It doesn’t necessarily feel that special. But it gives you a bit of purpose in your own life.”
Abbey’s stem cells collecting in the bag behind her
When she looked at the bag of stem cells collecting beside her, the only thing going through her head was whether they’d be good enough. Whether they’d actually help. That’s not someone thinking about themselves.
Abbey’s message for anyone sitting on the fence is simple. If you have the chance to donate stem cells and help save a life, why not? Everything’s organised, everything’s covered, and you just have to turn up.
Ready to donate stem cells?
Most people who sign up will never get the call. But if you do, everything is taken care of, even if you live in regional Australia. You just have to be aged 17 to 35 and willing to say yes.
Sign up through the TLR Partner Page.
Be a legend. Save a life.