Highest frequencies of Rh negatives:

3 Comments

1. Jeanette Jordan March 5, 2021 Reply

   I have reason to believe my mother’s, mother was Basque, her surname was Diaper (yes you read that right, nappy!) For two decades l tried to find out where it came from, and was one of the very first to join the then new ancestors sites way back, yet even they never could tell me it’s origins. The variations in the spelling of the name have evolved over time, so l’m guessing the patenter of babies nappies in the USA was named Diaper too. Someone once asked me if l had Spanish blood because l tanned in sun like them. It set me searching. I found an old sepia photo taken in the early 1900s, very Victorian, taken of married couples of one branch of my dad’s family which had a dark (olive/not deep black) skinned lady too, just her face is seen, her gloves, long dress, and hat, hid her otherwise. So, on both sides of my line it appears to have someone who could be Basque. Mum’s dad was Irish, Jack O’Mahoney from County Cork. We know the Basques went there. My Blood card, issued by British National Blood Transfusion Bank, carried now for sixty years reads: A Rh D Negative cde/cde. No idea what the last two are. Anyone enlighten me?

2. Carol Messina March 5, 2021 Reply

   Very nice, I also do genealogy and this is a nice bit of info to help me there.

3. Jeanette Jordan March 5, 2021 Reply

   My mum’s blood type was AB Negative. Dad was O Negative. The perfect group they say. She was fortunate to make that match, her blood did not react against her five babies inside her, like mine did l married twice and unlike her, l almost died many times due to haemorrhages times three, a complete blood change transfusion, and Toxaemia (pre-eclampsia) and much more, with five miscarriages, two terminations, and six live births. I conceived 13 babies. The pill failed and almost killed me. Suppositories failed. The coil failed and disappeared, and was found at the birth (l gave it to that baby when she was eighteen with the words, “this was supposed to stop me conceiving you, l’m glad it failed!”) But it tore my womb, no scans back then, l haemorrhaged again, and got rushed to theatre. That l’m alive is nothing short of many miracles many times. It’s all in my medical files. The most spoken words to me by doctors are, “how are you alive? why are you alive? you should be dead!” I had four siblings, three still alive. One brother is almost three years younger than me and is B Neg. He’s developed Parkinson’s. I don’t know the others blood types. We don’t get on from childhood. I’m.one of the original experimental Anti-D experiments, five children conceived and born between 1962 and 1969. The decade Anti-D jabs started in pregnant women. An ideal experimental guinea pig me. Only l lived to know the damage done to all those children, all the varying degrees of Autism that most don’t see until they live with them. The Anti-D kept them alive, but at a cost to me, the mum who loves them. To add insult to injury, that five was given the faulty vaccine released in 1969, and l also witnessed changes in them all then. No one believed me. But the court case in the seventies, the drug company paying out the highest ever compensation to an Irish couple, and then changing their name to The Welcome Trust, and cleverly becoming more powerful, left kids like mine, mum’s like me, in the shade behind them. Years later, a late child in 1983, l felt sure l was safe, he was safe, l dutifully had his first vaccines done at four months old. He reacted badly. Doctor came out, gave him penicillin. He reacted worse. Burning. Sweating. Neck swelled up like a Michellin Man advert. Doctor panicked. I took over, vastly experienced by now with babies. I’ve saved lives before. I had my teens running back and forth as my doctor paced the floor, towels, ice cubes, wrapped in tea towels, packed around his neck till swelling down. Doctor said, “l didn’t know what to do, l had an ambulance standing by, but you knew, you knew what to do. As a doctor l’m supposed to tell you to carry on with his vaccinations, but as a parent, l wouldn’t! ” I walked him late at night, naked in just a nappy (diaper) in his pram, hot summer nights, warm breeze, no medicines, just breast milk, and boiled cooled water, and love, and prayer and faith. It took a week to get them both (Vaccines and Cillins) from his system. He lived. I’ve survived pleurical pneumonia, bronchial pneumonia (twice) septicemia three times, two major road accidents, a nine month coma being dragged half a mile under a lorry’s wheels on the back axle. The USAF car that hit me head on in 1973 wrote my car off, it’s engine underneath my feet. He was totally unscathed. They compensated me without question. There’s more, it’s tiring just recalling it all. Emergency surgery on Boxing Day 1981 (they wanted to operate on Christmas Day, l said NO, if l’m gonna die l’m having Christmas with my kids the day before and that included my wayward eighteen years old son, the one no one else wanted there) l was seriously ill and developed septicemia again after surgery. Four months pain, tears, mattress on floor, unable to stand or walk, swelling up with poison. And again, l prayed, l begged, l promised, “if you let me live again Lord, l will be your advocate, l’ll tell everyone, l promise!” Again, miraculous intervention. You should have seen the doctor’s face, heard the amazement in his voice. He became a believer after that, l can tell you. And he’s not the first. I’m unable to take any medications now, l’m allergic to them all, any one of them could kill me So, no Covid vaccines for me. On top of all of this l’m a bloody medium. Personally, l think l’m far from being medium, don’t you? I know l won’t be very, very aged when l die. I’ve outlived all but two of my line this far, l’m now the oldest of my line left inside the UK today. We don’t carry long life genes, we’re not Windsor’s. l’m now almost 76 (2nd April) and l know how darn lucky l am to even be alive. With rheumatoid arthritis, osteoarthritis, heart failure and Asthma, l reckon l can speak my piece and afford you all advice. Because l certainly won’t make 80. Enjoy your searches into your DNA, you are special, with your rare blood types, your place in history. Your families and friends, enjoy them all. Live every day as if it was your last, and treat everyone you meet as if it was the last time, but without telling them. This way, you’ll make them feel special all the time, and smile, a lot. I’m lucky, l know what comes after this life, most don’t, so please stay safe and have faith, we all traverse one path. Whether you believe or not is irrelevant, your creator believes in you. If l, with all my bad luck know Him, your chances are a cinch!

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