Wednesday, June 22, 2011

transfusions


Good morning campers. I’ve decided you are my peeps; my homeys; mi hermanos, y hermanas, but most of all you are my queridas, and queridos. My gang as it were. Like George Costanza had the Van Buren Boys, we are the Chemo – 13. We really need a logo. The name signifies how unlucky the cancer is because of me going through the chemo and you guys getting me psychically ready.
In honor of that I am listening to Shaggy’s rendition of Angel. To read the lyrics go to http://www.elyrics.net/read/s/shaggy-lyrics/angel-lyrics.html. Juice Newton is somewhere having chest pains.
I had the weirdest few days. Since about the 12th I’ve been a side effect magnet. You name it I’ve had it—shortness of breath, fatigue, drenching sweats, soar throat, headache, nosebleeds, etc. It was grinding and playing with my mind.
It came to a head Sunday when I was getting ready to take a bath. I was standing naked at the mirror gazing at the wonder of me and I notice that on my left shoulder and running up my neck are blotches of little pink spots. Somewhere I remember reading something about that so I beat feet out of the bathroom and pick up my “Chemotherapy and You” book (that publication actually exists).
There I am standing naked and hairless in the kitchen waving the chemo book yelling to Kate. “HONEY, Look!”
She says with perfect comedic timing, Yeah I’ve seen that before.”
We laugh for a second.
“NO I think I have a real serious side effect and we need to call the on call oncologist.”
I show her the spots. We call the oncology office and in minutes the doc calls back.
“Oh yeah,” he say. “Those are blah, blah, blah spots (I don’t know what the hell he called them) you’re probably going to need a platelet transfusion. Get to the office first thing Monday and we’ll do a CBC (Complete Blood Count) and see what we have.”
At this, all that cosmic reading I’ve been doing kind of kicks in. I’m not upset, not even angry, not even scared – I think I am amused.
“Alright,” I said. “See you tomorrow.”
I show up at the oncology office and because I have a Hickman device I get my blood draw in the chemo-bay. This chemo is row upon row of institutional reclining chairs with wonderfully nice people fighting for their lives with smiles on their faces and truly kindness in their hearts. Really nice folks
Regardless, they draw my blood and tell me to cool my heels out in the waiting room while they run the numbers.
One of the nurses comes out and says, “You need a platelet transfusion and look at these white blood cell numbers you should probably have a blood transfusion. What do you think?”
“I don’t think anything, I don’t anything. What’s normal and what am I?"
She says that 120 is normal for white blood cells and my count is four. She gives equally depressing news about red blood cells etc….
“Well given that info, I guess a transfusion is the right thing to do.
Sometimes I think they offer patients choices that aren’t really choices just so we’ll feel engaged.
So it turns out that my lack of energy, fatigue, and overall blahness is due to blood work. To me that’s good news. That can be fixed and I can get on track way faster and start developing a little more strenuous physical fitness program than sitting in a recliner and cheering on Jeopardy contestants.
So Monday afternoon I at the hospital in mini-chemo bay, which deals specifically with blood and blood products. They hook me up to the platelets, let them, drip and I chill out for abut an hour and nap.
Tuesday I go back – IPod in hand – and have the most relaxing 2 ½ hours I’ve had in a while. I’m listening to Lyle Lovett’s Church Song; Arlo Guthrie’s City of New Orleans; Roberta Flack’s Killing me softly, and on and on. All the while the blood drips into my veins.
And while I don’t feel great, it does make me feel better. I can easily walk across the hospital campus now to get my car without getting too taxed.
To celebrate I get a nasty cheese-steak and a Coke and go home to wallow in grease, Ketchup, and caffeine.

Love to all


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