Blood transfusions, Pirates, and Spit bowls, Oh My!

My old friend Mucositis is back for an uninvited visit and this time he brought along his good old buddy Neutropenia. I’ve been begging Muco to get the hell away from me but he finds wicked pleasure in my suffering. It feels like he took a cheese grater to my throat, preventing me swallowing anything other than tea or soup, and even those two things cause me great discomfort. I cringe in pain whenever I swallow my own spit, so I’ve resorted to carrying a spit bowl. On Friday my mom went to a great deal of trouble organizing a dinner party the night before my grandmother, Rosie, was due to return to London. That morning I had gone out and nearly fainted several times. Each time, I started to lose my vision as everything went white and I was forced to quickly sit down. By the time I got home, my dad had already contacted my oncologist who ordered me report to the Highland Park emergency room for a probable blood transfusion. We got there at noon, naively assuming that we would be there for a mere three hours. Ha! How wrong we were, for we forgot that we were on hospital time. To my sheer delight, my good friend Tim was my nurse again.

We first had to get my blood typed, even though I’ve received a transfusion in the past at this hospital, which took a good three hours. I was then transferred out of the emergency room to a regular room. Two hours later, they began the transfusion. Needless to say, my mom was constantly calculating whether or not I would be able to attend her dinner party. I needed one super pack of platelets, which took about an hour to transfuse, and two packs of red blood cells which each took three and a half hours. We thought we would be home by 3:30 on Friday afternoon at the latest. Turns out we got home at 3:45 the next morning. Sorry, Mom.

The next day, I was full of energy, and against my dad’s better judgment, I, along with three friends, abducted my roommate, Dawna, and took her on a pirate scavenger hunt for her birthday. Aye, did we have a jolly good time.

By the time I got home at 7:00pm on Saturday I needed to take a rest. When my dad got home, he took my temperature, and lo and behold, I had a fever. Now, I know that normally a fever is no big deal, but when my number of white blood cells is the same as the number of hairs on my head, it is a serious matter. So, yet again we were off to the Highland Park emergency room where they took blood and urine cultures. I was given an intravenous antibiotic and sent home with my port accessed and oral antibiotics. Yummy!

Now I am at home, currently on an IV with my spit bowl in one hand and my painkillers in the other. I’m trying to stay out of the hospital as long as possible before my next round of chemo, but it doesn’t look like the evil Muco is giving in any time soon.