05/27/2026 | Press release | Distributed by Public on 05/27/2026 09:53
When James Schneider walked into Emplify Health by Gundersen Boscobel Hospital for his 50th blood transfusion on Thursday, March 12, it wasn't something he ever imagined would become part of his life.
But today, he sees it as something worth celebrating.
"I wish I didn't need them, but since I do, I'm very grateful to be here." James said with a smile.
His journey began on Nov. 5, 2023, when something as simple as a meeting turned into something much more serious.
"I was sitting there, and people kept saying, 'You don't look good,'" James said. "They took me to the emergency room in Lancaster, and my hemoglobin was 5.8 - which is extremely low."
That moment was the beginning of a new reality.
After facing cancer twice - first colon cancer and later cancer near his spine - along with chemotherapy, radiation and ongoing treatment, his body had been through more than most. Over time, the impact of those treatments took its toll. His bone marrow was no longer producing what it should, leaving him severely anemic and extremely weak.
"2025 was a really tough year," he said. "I had 35 transfusions, and most of them were right here in Boscobel."
What started as something unfamiliar has since become routine. James now comes in regularly for lab work, often starting his day at the hospital.
"I come in around 8 a.m., they draw my blood, and within about 15 minutes I know where I'm at," he said.
If his hemoglobin falls below 7.5, he returns the next day for a transfusion. Because he has antibodies in his blood, the process is a little more complex - his blood must be specially ordered before treatment can begin. It's not something most people ever think about, but for James, it's part of a carefully coordinated process that happens seamlessly each time he walks through the doors.
While the routine itself is predictable, how he feels is not.
"I can usually tell when I'm having a good day or a bad day," he said. "But it doesn't always match the numbers."
Some days, he has the energy to stay active for a few hours. Other days, even simple things take more effort. The transfusions don't change everything, but they make a difference - enough to allow him to keep moving forward.
What stands out most to James, though, isn't just the care itself; it's the people behind it.
Over time, he's gotten to know the team that cares for him - the lab staff who draw his blood and quickly turn around results, the infusion team that monitors him closely during treatments, and the familiar faces who greet him when he walks in.
"I've worked with almost everybody here," he said. "And it's been consistent every time."
There's a comfort in that consistency - a sense of knowing what to expect and who will be there to help guide him through it.
"They take the time to explain things and keep me informed," he said. "I have a lot of confidence in them."
Those interactions - the conversations, the check-ins, the small moments - have turned something clinical into something more personal.
"We're getting to be friends," he said with a smile.
Even on longer days, when timing doesn't go quite as planned, there's an understanding that he's being cared for by people who are paying attention - not just to the process, but to him.
"It's not just professional," he said. "There's a level of care here that goes beyond that."
That care has made a difference in ways that go far beyond the walls of the hospital.
Because his condition can change quickly, having access to this level of care close to home has made managing it possible.
"If I feel really weak, I can come in and get checked," he said. "That flexibility makes a big difference."
Before he stopped working, he was able to fit those visits into his day - coming in for labs in the morning and heading to work after. Now, even as his routine has slowed, that accessibility continues to matter.
"The goal is maintaining quality of life," he said.
And for him, that means making the most of the time he has - even if it looks different than it once did.
"If I have a really good day and I do too much, I'll feel it the next day," he said. "But I still want to do what I can."
Last year, that mindset led him to set a simple goal.
"My goal was to hold my grandson," he said.
His grandson was born on July 21, 2025, and James held him for the first time just two days later.
"Any day after that was a bonus," he said.
Now, he spends time with both his grandson and his 4-year-old granddaughter. He may not be able to run around with them or keep up in the same ways, but he's there - watching them grow, sharing moments, being present.
"I can still spend time with them," he said. "And that's what matters."
Through everything, James has gained a deeper understanding of what it takes to support care like this - not just the treatments themselves, but the people, the coordination and the resources behind them.
"There's a lot more involved than people realize," he said.
Each visit relies on a team working together - from lab testing and monitoring to preparing and delivering blood that meets his specific needs. It's a process that happens largely behind the scenes, but one he experiences the results of every time he walks in.
He's also quick to recognize the role of those beyond the hospital walls.
"I'm extraordinarily thankful for the people who donate blood," he said. "There are some very appreciative recipients, and I'm one of them."
For James, reaching 50 transfusions isn't just about the number.
It's about the time those treatments have given him - time to be with his family, time to meet his grandson, time to continue living his life in a way that still feels meaningful.
"I always describe myself as a fortunate person," he said.
And even now, that perspective hasn't changed.
"I plan on waking up tomorrow," he said. "And it's because I have access to care like this."
Then, with the same steady outlook he's carried through it all, he adds: "Any day you wake up is a good day."