Be Positive

July 2, 2011


I have found myself so many times in the last months driving down the road in utter amazement that I can see...all by myself.  What a miracle it is that I can see after being as blind as a bat.  Lasik surgery literally changed my life.  Every day I am grateful for seeing the clock in the morning or not planning my escape in my head if my house caught on fire and I couldn't find my glasses.  I seriously thought about those things.  I planned how I would get each child with my eyes closed.  It sounds crazy...It is crazy, but it's true.  I am so grateful for the seemingly small things.  The days I feel good, the days I have no pain, or days I can see without help.  I very much value the little things.

Yesterday, the nurse at my hematologist's office called me.  Nothing is planned when you have issues with your blood, but everything becomes this massive crisis.  I went in on Thursday for my normal blood tests to make sure my iron levels were in check.  Friday at 3pm, the sweet nurse called and said I either needed to repeat the blood tests or get 2 pints of blood immediately.  I raced down to their office to repeat the test before they closed for the holiday weekend, but I knew in my heart the first test was correct.  She told me my hemoglobin was at 7, when it needed to be at least double that.  When we had our last "crises" in October, my hemoglobin was at 6, not to mention my stored iron, or Ferratin, was almost non-existant.  My tank was on empty and I was really feeling it.  This time, not so much.  But, I know it's coming.

Of course, it's the Fourth of July weekend, with Monday being a holiday.  Everyone is in panic mode and it absolutely kills me.  I feel fine, and yet one call has turned our house upside down.  According to Babe, I am on death row.  We jumped through lots of hoops since the confirmation call early this morning that I, indeed, needed the transfusion.  I zipped to the hospital to get my blood cross-typed to prepare for my transfusion.  Between the amazing on-call nurse at the hematologist's office and Babe, the un-doable was done and Babe was already allowed to give blood today (a holiday Saturday) and designate it to my cause.  I cannot stand the thought of taking stranger blood at this point.  The paper work they give you to sign your life away to possible AIDS, HIV, and Hepatitis is overwhelming.  The first time I saw it, I immediately started bawling thinking of my sweet boys and yet "agreeing" that it was OK if I contracted any of those diseases accidentally through the transfusion.  HOW could I take that risk?  So, my amazing family jumped in head first and donated blood and came to our rescue.  The fact that it is happening again, just 9 months later, tears me up inside.  That others are having to drop everything to help me makes me so sad and really, just mad.  I know everyone loves me and wants to help, but I just want to be normal. Normal!

So, with that pity, I just recently told a friend :) to choose your time to grieve.  When that time is over, you have to focus on the up side.  Today, I am grieving and feeling the anger and the sadness and the "Why?" most importantly.  Why can't my body keep up?  Why can't my blood sustain itself?  Tomorrow, my time is up.  I will choose to be positive...tomorrow.

I asked JBS if he wanted to go with me this morning to the hospital.  I am on the fence about keeping him in the dark versus including him to help him to understand that I am OK.  I know he knows more about my health problems than I give him credit for and I would rather him see that giving my blood for testing doesn't hurt me and I walk away just fine.  As we drove into the hospital parking lot, my blood type kept coming to my mind: B+.  Over and over I said it like a broken record, B+, B+. B+ to the point where it actually sunk in.  I think it was God's little way of reminding me to "Be Positive".  He can handle this and I am just along for the ride.  Wow.  As emotional as this day has been for me and the feelings of hopelessness I have felt today, the feeling of sitting back and letting God handle it is more powerful than anything I have felt in the last 8 hours.  We serve an AWESOME God.  While I know this is my trial and my lessons being learned, the feelings of hope are too strong NOT to share.

So, the questions remain, "Why the heck do I have a problem keeping my hemoglobin in check?  Why does my ferratin continue to drop and require iron transfusions? What is going on?"  With all the crazy issues I have had in the past few years, I have slowly come to terms with the fact that I don't have good health.  BUT, I certainly plan on taking back that victory soon.  My parents have continued to encourage me to seek help from a place like Mayo Clinic where all disciplines work together to achieve an answer and evaluate my body TOGETHER. I finally agreed.  That process has begun, so I would SO appreciate prayers for timing, availability, answers, healing.  There are so many things to be excited about...so much hope!

This chapter is not complete.  I will certainly keep you posted.  Is it terrible to admit that I am actually quite excited at the possibility of walking on the Mayo Clinic campus?  I always dreamed of working in a huge medical complex.  These are the things that get this nerd excited...