How many times have you been admitted to an emergency room? I had a chance to ponder this question about myself, and first I thought three, including today. Yes, I spent a couple of hours in the hospital ER where I get my Vidaza injections. The nurses took one look at me and called a covering oncologist who called off the shot and said I needed to go to the ER downstairs.
They put me in a bed in one of the rooms. A nurse came in and asked me if I'd been beaten by a loved one or anyone else. I said no, but I completely understood what she was trying to ferret out. Back when I was a kid, this would never happen, and I know this from personal experience. I was alone for 15 minutes before the doctor came in. That's when I started thinking about ER visits.
The first time I went to the ER was when I was 10, had fallen off my bike and hit my knee on a curb. It was a Sunday (what a memory), and the ER was packed with people who'd nearly cut off their toes while lawn-mowing and other bloody injuries much more serious than mine. Four stitches and hours later I was discharged.
The second trip was when I was in college and got hit by a car while riding my bike. I remember flying into the intersection and feeling embarrassed by the attention I got. I had a cut on my ear which needed two stitches, and a broken tooth. The driver of the car paid for everything.
The third trip was shortly after my first chemo treatment. I suddenly spiked a fever and was told by my oncologist to go to the hospital right away. This was the worst experience in the ER cannon. I was admitted, put on anti-bacterial intravenous drip and placed on a cooling blanket, plus packed with ice like a fish. My temperature rose to 105.9. It was pure torture, and my husband had to watch the whole thing and worry about whether I'd be brain-damaged or worse.
The fourth trip happened on a cold snowy night after I'd had a catheter inserted in my chest earlier in the day. When I went to bed, all was well. A couple of hours later I woke up in a pool of blood. We took a cab to the hospital where I'd had the catheter put in. Once admitted, I spent hours on a bed next to the nurses' station since all the rooms were filled. My treatment consisted of nurses putting pressure on the wound until the bleeding stopped.
So today was my fifth visit to the ER. I hope to hold it at that.
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Adirondack Mountains, Feb. 2007
Tale of a Cord Blood Transplantee Who Relapses and Goes on to Have a Matched Unrelated-Donor Transplant
The Weight
Adirondack Mountains, Feb. 2007
ABOUT ME
In March 2006, I was diagnosed with a blood cancer called Acute Myelogenous Leukemia (AML). Life as I knew it came to a crashing halt. After enduring a month in the hospital where I received intense chemotherapy, I was declared "in remission." I had three additional treatments and remained cancer-free until May 2007, when I relapsed.
My only shot at survival was to have a stem cell transplant. However, my brothers' immune markers didn't match mine, and an international search of bone marrow registries found no perfect matches. A transplant using the blood from two umbilical cords was recommended. I grasped at this straw in September 2007. It seemed to work.
This blog tells the story of my transplant and recovery, replete with outrageous slings and arrows. The expression "blood is thicker than water" has new meaning for me. I remained alive due to the blood of strangers, two of them, both male. Thanks guys.
The plot thickened when I relapsed 19 months into my new remission and had to go through the same rigamarole once more. This time, I received stem cells from a matched adult donor who was identified last go round but didn't fit into the necessary time frame. Charles Dickens could have fun with this, the stuff of pulp fiction.
I remain in remission 4 years later. My donor keeps leukemic cells in check but finds interesting ways to attack my body. Chronic graft versus host disease keeps me firmly entrenched in the medical world. And so it goes.
My only shot at survival was to have a stem cell transplant. However, my brothers' immune markers didn't match mine, and an international search of bone marrow registries found no perfect matches. A transplant using the blood from two umbilical cords was recommended. I grasped at this straw in September 2007. It seemed to work.
This blog tells the story of my transplant and recovery, replete with outrageous slings and arrows. The expression "blood is thicker than water" has new meaning for me. I remained alive due to the blood of strangers, two of them, both male. Thanks guys.
The plot thickened when I relapsed 19 months into my new remission and had to go through the same rigamarole once more. This time, I received stem cells from a matched adult donor who was identified last go round but didn't fit into the necessary time frame. Charles Dickens could have fun with this, the stuff of pulp fiction.
I remain in remission 4 years later. My donor keeps leukemic cells in check but finds interesting ways to attack my body. Chronic graft versus host disease keeps me firmly entrenched in the medical world. And so it goes.
3 comments:
Lori had to take me twice both times about 10 years ago, once for what we think in retrospect was salmonella (particularly since whatever it was was brought on after 2 Wendy's chicken sandwiches), the other time for what turned out to be acute diverticulitis.
But what happened and what is wrong?
sorry, but I accidentally deleted a comment before I read it.
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