Pulled In. Pulled Through: How Blood Donation Came Full Circle for Chris Domeyer
- NEIA Red Cross
- 13 minutes ago
- 3 min read
By Lubna Albadawi
Chris Domeyer remembers the sound of the auger.
The grinding metal.The pull of his glove.The moment he knew.
“I knew if I made it out of that truck alive,” he says quietly, “it was going to be without a leg.”
On November 17, 2005, Chris was working for the Iowa Department of Transportation. A snowstorm had rolled through overnight, and like many winter mornings, he had been called in early to plow.
He decided to wash his new truck instead of heading to another job site. He never finished.
While unloading salt from the raised truck bed, Domeyer's leather glove caught in the chunk breaker auger. He tore his hand free, but seconds later, his foot slipped.
The machine grabbed his leg.
An Hour That Changed Everything
Domeyer called the shop himself.
“Send somebody out,” he told them. “I’m caught in the sander.”
Coworkers ran. One shut off the truck. Another used his belt as a tourniquet. Emergency responders fought stainless steel machinery for nearly an hour to cut him free.
“They were just right at an hour from the time they got there till they got me out,” Domeyer recalls.
He remembers seeing the crowd, friends, family, coworkers. He remembers the helicopter ride. He even tried to look out the window.
The flight medic thought he was in pain.
“I said no,” Domeyer laughs. “I just wanted to look outside.”
But what he didn’t fully understand in that moment was how much blood he had lost.
Doctors later told his wife he had lost more than half his blood volume. There was no clear reason he should have survived the trip to the hospital.
The Blood That Helped Save Him
At St. Luke’s Hospital in Cedar Rapids, Domeyer received multiple transfusions.
He had always been a blood donor. His father had inspired him to start years earlier.
But now, he was the one receiving.
“I don’t think it really sunk in at the time,” he says. “But I know somebody else’s blood donation saved my life.”
The decision was made to amputate his leg rather than attempt multiple surgeries that might still end in amputation.
“It was the right decision,” Domeyer says firmly. “We were going to do it right the first time and get up and get going.”
And that is exactly what he did.
A Community That Carried Him
Domeyer returned home within days.
While he was hospitalized, friends and family transformed his house to make it accessible. Ramps were built. Adjustments were made. Meals were prepared.
“I think the biggest thing I learned,” Domeyer says, “is that we have a close-knit community.”
Every November 17, Domeyer and his wife Connie celebrate what they call his “celebration of life.”
Not the anniversary of an accident, but the anniversary of survival.
Back to the Blood Bank
Two months after the accident, Domeyer tried to donate again.
He was told he would have to wait a year.
“I was really disappointed,” he admits. “I knew I had pulled some out of the blood bank. I wanted to give back.”
Domeyer has now donated more than 15 gallons of blood.
During snowstorms when he couldn’t leave work in Manchester, he drove 45 miles to Dubuque just to stay on schedule.
“It’s more of a commitment now,” he says. “Before, it was just something I was doing. Now I know what it did for me.”
When asked what he would say to the person whose blood saved him, his answer is simple:
“Thank you for saving my life. And thank you for donating.”
Paying It Forward
Today, blood donation means something deeply personal.
“To me,” Domeyer says, “this is my way of paying back everybody that helped me that day — friends, family, coworkers, doctors, nurses. And especially the ones who donated blood.”
He does not speak dramatically about survival. He does not exaggerate what happened. He simply shows up.
Again and again.
Because he knows firsthand that one donation can mean the difference between life and death.
And somewhere out there, another patient like Domeyer might be waiting.
To learn more about blood donation and to make an appointment to give, visit redcrossblood.org