It shows the beauty of the human spirit when a stranger donates blood out of compassion. I recall the anxiety of the patient, when red is being drawn in a syringe, hoping the results aren't an indicator of upcoming health struggles. Red is the color of the blush of a newborn, when it smiles. Without red, life is pale, or worse, blue.
"Blue, yes, the oxygen in your blood is low."
"It's your liver that makes your skin and eyes look so yellow."
"Your bruise is green because of biliverdin."
"Check your stool, black might mean your bleeding from within."
But red will always have a special place in my heart. It is the color I first saw underneath the skin in the dissection hall. Red reminds me of surgeries, accidents, tragedies. Red is the color of bloodshed.
It fills me with sorrow. When the news of death is heard, red is the color of tears shed.