Transylvania Transfer

Hemolytic Anemia

If you recall I
was supposed
to get more blood

before this latest

mini-crisis popped up.

I was grateful to be home again
and my breathing was okay, but I was still
lightheaded, dizzy, shaky and extremely weak. My hemoglobin numbers were in the 8's, certainly nothing to write home about. I called my hemotologist and we arranged to have me transfused once more. He felt that another two units (pints) should do the trick. He still wasn't sure why I was so anemic, and he wanted to find out, so he uttered three words that might be among the scariest I've ever heard: Bone Marrow Biopsy. Okay, I thought, I have leukemia. It's been nice, folks; check please. No, insisted Dr. Youngblood*, I just want to do the test to rule some things out and possibly identify the root of the problem, he said. Don't worry, he said. Well, easy for you to say, buster; it ain't your marrow being shoved under a microscope! I wasn't thrilled about it for two reasons: 1. It sounded very ominous, and 2. He tried without much success to convince me that it wasn't a painful procedure. I do it all the time, he said. In my office, he said. None of this made me feel any better. So I stalled. I said I was busy, which is pretty funny considering how pretty much all I was doing back then was sitting around and scratching myself. He said it wasn't a rush, but he wanted to get it done eventually. He thought my anemia might be due to "chronic illness." Basically that means that because you've been so very sick for so long, your bone marrow figures, oh the hell with it and throws in the towel. At least that's how I understood it. Another possibility was that I had hemolytic anemia, the abnormal breakdown of red blood cells. There can be many causes of this, not the least of which is prolonged use of certain antibiotics, among them Bactrim, Vancomycin, and Dapsone, all of which I had been on. Anyway, I shlepped out to Long Island to the hospital where Dr. Youngblood was affiliated, and they hooked me up for the transfusion. It was a long procedure, taking around four or five hours for two units, but I was in a bed where I could doze or watch TV, so I didn't really mind. Then about 3/4 of the way through the second unit, something started itching on my left arm. Then on my right arm. Then on my face. I called the nurse in and she informed me

that I had broken out in hives. Not too common, she said, but not too rare, either.

They gave me Benadryl and stopped the transfusion. So I wound up getting one and three quarters units of blood and Benadryl to take home as a fabulous parting gift.  As long as no one said anything about a b-i-o-p-s-y, I wasn't complaining.



Not that kind of hive, ya little dope!

*Definitely not his real name!