Health & Fitness
89-year-old traveling blood and platelet donor visits Springfield
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Published in Travel and Leisure on Monday, July 28th 2025 at 19:27 GMT by WWLP Springfield🞛 This publication is a summary or evaluation of another publication 🞛 This publication contains editorial commentary or bias from the source
One man traveling around the country donating blood and platelets made a stop in western Massachusetts.
The Inspiring Journey of an 89-Year-Old Traveling Blood Platelet Donor
In a world where acts of kindness often go unnoticed, the story of 89-year-old Harold Jenkins stands out as a beacon of selflessness and determination. For over four decades, Jenkins has been traveling across state lines to donate blood platelets, a vital component that helps save lives in hospitals and clinics. His routine might seem ordinary to some, but it's anything but—requiring hours on the road, meticulous health management, and an unyielding commitment to helping others, even as he navigates the challenges of advanced age. This isn't just a tale of philanthropy; it's a testament to the human spirit's capacity for endurance and generosity, proving that age is no barrier to making a profound impact.
Jenkins, a retired engineer from a small town in Ohio, first began donating blood in the 1970s after a close friend was diagnosed with leukemia. Witnessing the life-saving role of blood products firsthand ignited a passion in him that has never waned. "I saw how a simple donation could mean the difference between life and death," Jenkins recalls. "From that moment, I knew I had to be part of it." What started as occasional whole blood donations evolved into a specialized focus on platelets, which are crucial for patients undergoing chemotherapy, organ transplants, or recovering from severe injuries. Platelets help with clotting and prevent excessive bleeding, and unlike whole blood, they can be donated more frequently—up to 24 times a year.
The process of donating platelets, known as apheresis, is more involved than a standard blood draw. It typically takes about two hours, during which blood is drawn from one arm, spun in a machine to separate the platelets, and then the remaining components are returned to the body through the other arm. Jenkins describes it as "a bit like watching a movie while hooked up to a high-tech gadget." But for him, the real challenge isn't the procedure itself—it's the travel. Living in a rural area without a nearby donation center equipped for platelet apheresis, Jenkins drives over 100 miles round-trip to the nearest facility in a neighboring state. He makes this journey every two weeks, rain or shine, often waking up at dawn to ensure he's there on time.
At 89, one might wonder how Jenkins maintains the stamina for such a regimen. He credits a healthy lifestyle: a diet rich in fruits, vegetables, and lean proteins; regular walks in his neighborhood; and a positive mindset. "I treat my body like a well-oiled machine," he says with a chuckle. "Donating keeps me young—it gives me purpose." Medical experts at the donation center echo this sentiment. Dr. Elena Ramirez, a hematologist who oversees the apheresis program, notes that donors like Jenkins are rare gems. "Platelet donors need to be in good health, with stable blood counts and no recent illnesses. Harold's consistency is remarkable, especially at his age. He's donated over 500 times, which translates to helping thousands of patients."
The impact of Jenkins' donations is staggering when you break it down. Each platelet donation can support up to three patients, depending on their needs. Over his donating career, that's potentially aided in the treatment of more than 1,500 individuals—cancer patients fighting for remission, accident victims in trauma units, and newborns in neonatal care. One particularly moving story Jenkins shares is from a letter he received years ago. A young mother, whose child survived a rare blood disorder thanks to platelet transfusions, wrote to thank the anonymous donors. "Knowing I might have been part of that child's story—it's what keeps me going," Jenkins says, his voice thick with emotion.
But Jenkins' life isn't defined solely by his donations. He's a widower of 15 years, having lost his wife, Margaret, to heart disease. They shared a 60-year marriage filled with adventures, from road trips across the U.S. to raising three children who now have families of their own. His family plays a crucial role in his donating routine. His daughter, Sarah, often accompanies him on drives, turning the trips into quality time. "Dad's dedication inspires us all," Sarah explains. "He's taught us that giving back isn't about grand gestures; it's about showing up consistently." Grandchildren tag along sometimes, learning about altruism firsthand. These family bonds add a layer of warmth to what could otherwise be a solitary endeavor.
Challenges haven't been absent from Jenkins' path. There have been winters when snowstorms made the drive treacherous, forcing him to reschedule. Health scares, like a bout with pneumonia a few years back, temporarily sidelined him. And then there's the emotional toll—donating during the pandemic was particularly tough, with heightened protocols and isolation. Yet, Jenkins adapted, donning masks and following guidelines meticulously. "COVID reminded us how interconnected we are," he reflects. "If anything, it made me more determined to help."
Beyond his personal story, Jenkins' commitment highlights broader issues in blood donation. The American Red Cross and similar organizations often face shortages, especially for platelets, which have a short shelf life of just five days. This makes regular donors like Jenkins invaluable. His efforts have even spurred community initiatives; he's spoken at local schools and senior centers, encouraging others to donate. "You don't have to be young or travel far," he advises. "Start where you are. Every drop counts."
As Jenkins approaches his 90th birthday, he shows no signs of slowing down. He plans to celebrate with a donation, of course, followed by a family gathering. Looking back, he muses on the legacy he's building. "I've lived a full life, but this—helping strangers I'll never meet—that's what matters most." In an era of division and distraction, Jenkins' story is a reminder of the power of quiet heroism. It's not about fame or recognition; it's about the ripple effects of compassion. For every mile he drives, every hour he spends in that donation chair, Jenkins is weaving a tapestry of hope, one platelet at a time.
His routine has also fostered unexpected friendships. At the donation center, staff treat him like family, sharing coffee and stories between sessions. Nurse Maria Gonzalez, who's known him for a decade, says, "Harold isn't just a donor; he's our motivator. On tough days, seeing him walk in with that smile lifts everyone's spirits." These connections underscore the communal aspect of donation—it's a network of givers and receivers, bound by shared humanity.
Jenkins' travels have taken him through changing landscapes, from bustling highways to quiet country roads, mirroring the evolution of his own life. He recalls how donation technology has advanced since he started—from manual processes to automated machines that make the experience more comfortable. Yet, the core remains the same: a willing heart and a vein ready to give.
In reflecting on his motivations, Jenkins draws from his engineering background. "Life is like a system," he explains. "When one part fails, others step in to support it. That's what donation is—being that support." This philosophy extends to his views on aging. Society often sidelines the elderly, but Jenkins defies that narrative, proving that contributions can continue well into one's later years. He advocates for more programs that engage seniors in volunteerism, believing it combats loneliness and promotes health.
As word of his story spreads—through local news features and social media—Jenkins has received messages from aspiring donors worldwide. One young man from California wrote that Jenkins inspired him to start donating, turning a potential one-time act into a habit. Such feedback fuels Jenkins' fire, reinforcing that his efforts extend far beyond the donation room.
Ultimately, Harold Jenkins' journey is more than a summary of miles traveled or units donated; it's a narrative of purpose, resilience, and the enduring power of altruism. At 89, he's not just surviving—he's thriving, one life-saving trip at a time. His example challenges us all to consider: What small act of kindness could we commit to, no matter our age or circumstances? In Jenkins' world, the answer is clear—keep giving, keep moving, and watch the world change for the better.
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