Since my last post, I've been laying pretty low. I sleep most of Saturday and plenty of Sunday. Saturday I am incredibly not well, and I begin to worry about needing a transfusion, well, not needing it, but realizing that my blood won't be drawn until Monday, therefore results won't be available until Tuesday at earliest. Feeling so poorly on Saturday, I wonder if I will make it to Monday without a trip to hospital.
But on Sunday, after sleeping in until 10am, I wake up feeling "not horrible." :)
It might sound sarcastic, but I've been adjusting to new normal, so "not horrible" is an improvement.
Monday comes and I'm feeling out how I feel...I decide I'm about the same as Sunday. Cool - two days in a row of "not horrible." I decide I'm going to win this battle. Take that, parvo virus!
I get lab work done, attend a conference for my daughter at school, and get everyone home quickly. We broil frozen burgers and dinner is on the table in 10 minutes. I even remember to make enough for leftovers tomorrow. Yay for early bedtime!
Tuesday is a little busier, but I still take advantage and break for a mid day nap. I am woken up with a call from my nurse.
Linda tells me all my labs came back and they are basically fine, EXCEPT they didn't get a CBC, the test that tells what my hemoglobin and hematocrit are, the test that says whether I'm improving or not in relation to my red blood cell count. Linda tells me they'll wait and just get this result on the following Monday's test.
Huh? I know I'm feeling a little better, but waiting two weeks when my last hemoglobin was 6 something doesn't make sense to me. I let her know I plan to retake the lab work, even if only for my piece of mind, on Wednesday morning. I feel like I'm making the right decision for my health.
Guess what? Linda calls me late Wednesday morning right after I sleep in and right before I leave for lab.
"Don't go," she says. "We got your CBC in."
"That's great." I'm glad she's saving me a stick.
"Ummmm, no." Linda hesitates. "Your hemoglobin is 5.5 and your hematocrit is 17.”
Ugh. This translates to: your red blood cell count is dangerously low, you should feel horribly, and we need to treat you right away. My presumption that I was kicking parvo's butt was waaaaay off.
"Dr Jonnson wants you to come in today for a transfusion." This is a bittersweet message. I know it will improve the way I feel, but it also means I'm sick enough to merit not only the transfusion, but the additional rejection risks of adding another person's blood to my body.
I won't go over all the painstaking details of how long everything takes in the hospital, but I am admitted by 3pm and my transfusion finally starts at 9:20pm. Six hours of feeling yucky and tired without a lot of action taken can really take the wind out of your sails.
The nurse has explained to me I will get 3 units(most I've received before is 2) because my numbers are so low. At 3-4 hours per unit, I should be done and peppy by late morning.
Determined to hold on to my silver linings perspective, i remind myself Thursday hospital breakfast is French toast, eggs and fruit. Yum! :)
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