What Did I Do To Be So Black and Blue?

I'll tell you what I did. I willingly allowed my body to be blasted with Love Canal's leftover toxic waste and then some. My blood report has AB Normal written all over it. In theory, if I were to cut myself, I'd bleed to death due to lack of platelets. But then, I have very little actual blood so I'm not sure what, if anything, would leak out. Apparently, being bloodless does not affect the desire to write about one's misery. Plog on ...

I was having a hard time mustering the strength to do anything this morning. My nurse breezed in and announced I had 3000 platelets (normal range is 150,000-400,000) and would have an immediate transfusion, probably around the time breakfast arrived. Eggs topped with mellow yellow sauce, anyone? The doctors came in and practically strip-searched me for evidence of bruising, a classic hallmark of very low platelets. They were disappointed. They planned to pre-medicate me to the max so as to avoid a nasty reaction like the one I had the other day. I broke out into exactly one hive (right in the middle of my forehead), so the transfusion was a breeze. My breakfast was quite tasty, too.

But my mood was black and most definitely blue. Today was the day of the CVS-Providence 5K, a race I competed in last year, just two months after my final chemo treatment. I ran that race because I could, because cancer hadn't vanquished me. Instead of joining thousands of runners in Rhode Island's capital city (including my sons Mark and Harry), I was to spend the day nestled in my bed like a Faberge egg. The day was getting more pathetic by the minute.

Here's what I did. I donned my race shirt from 2006 and vowed to run the race in 2008. I also ate a Kit Kat bar. So there!


I have some very sad news to report. Stacie Edmonds, a woman I know in East Greenwich who was diagnosed with brain cancer shortly before my leukemia diagnosis, died last week. We both had boys on the track team, and would sit together at various track events and banquets. We were the two bald ladies proud of our sons' accomplishments. Stacie leaves behind a husband and two children and many grieving relatives and friends. Peace, Stacie.