My clinic appointment yesterday was grueling. I was in dire need of blood, so my doctor ordered 2 irradiated units. I had already negotiated with my doctor to eliminate the steroid pre-medication (I still got Tylenol and Benadryl) because it had made me so nutty during Monday's platelet transfusion. That turned out to be a very bad idea.
Half an hour into the transfusion, they checked my vitals and my blood pressure was something like 77/46 and my temperature 101 degrees. Oops. The transfusion was immediately stopped and I had to get the steroid anyway and wait for my signs to improve. Interestingly, I didn't feel woozy or even especially hot. Whatever. An hour or so later, blood was once again flowing and I appeared to be fine. They checked my signs every 20 minutes to be sure.
Transfusion #2 didn't get underway until 5 pm. The additional pre-meds made me jumpy, and the easy-chair I was sitting in had lost much of its ease. They'd pumped me full of fluids, so I spent much of the time wheeling my pole into the bathroom (my, that sounds off-color) and then walking back to my uneasy chair.
We sludged out of the clinic at about 7:15. The blood had given me a bit of a boost I suppose, but I was way too exhausted to notice. I slept most of the ride home.
I'm not even going to try to mine this little episode for a hint of humor or a silver lining. It was bad; I got through it; this disease is awful.