Last week, I started having more intense pain again in my stomach...ulcer kind of pain. On top of that, I felt that it might be bleeding again. UGH! I was so frustrated, yet so determined to nip this cycle in the bud.
The fantastic thing about having a hematologist, if there is an up side, is that the lab in the office is open anytime and patients arrive with or without appointments. So, I high-tailed it to the office, where the nurses are so kind and had my blood taken. My mother-in-law was in town {she has the good blood} and I was fully prepared to have to ask her, yet again, to donate for me. I hate it. I hate that both my husband and my mother-in-law tell me that they don't donate because they never know when I will need their blood. I am so grateful to have matches so close to me, but isn't there someone out there that might need it more than me?
I anxiously awaited their call on Thursday to tell me that my iron was low and I needed a transfusion. I dreaded it. I partially willed the call not to come. I am just SO tired of being stuck and poked. Again, SO grateful that I can get better because of the sticks and pokes, but just so tired of taking time away from my kids to have to go to the hospital. I am still praying for that miraculous healing. I WANT to be that crazy on the corner yelling, "I've been healed!" :)
The call came. However, it wasn't my iron that was low, but my B-12. In the history of my fight with Crohn's I have never had low B-12. That is a very common symptom of Crohn's Disease and have been asked about my B-12 by every new doctor I see. But, I have never had a deficiency...until now. The great nurses told me they would call it in...as if I knew what I was doing. I haphazardly asked if they were shots. Why yes! The syringes and vials will come together she said. I interrupted before she ever finished. "You mean I have to give it to myself? Or do I come to you?" She explained that she could do it, but they would have to charge me. And that I would need to get this shot every week for quite some time. I have endured lots of things, shots even. But giving myself a shot is a whole new ballgame for me. It was around 4pm on Friday and she said I had to have it today. So, I raced to Walgreens to pick up my shots and raced straight to the open arms of my hematology nurses. She went slow, but changed the needle (because hers were smaller), and did this and that and squeezed my tummy and it didn't even hurt. I thought I could possibly handle it myself the next week.
So, here I am! The next week arrived, I laid everything out in front of me and prayed that I wouldn't kill myself by pushing air bubbles into a vein. Hard to do in a pooch on your tummy, but still! My hubs was sitting next to me practically looking the other way saying, "Do you want me to do it?" I said, "Yes" and he never moved and inch. So, I "primed" (new lingo) my needle and pinched my tummy and pushed it in. I felt it. BUT, it wasn't so bad.
So far, I am still alive. That speaks volumes to me! And, my husband still hasn't moved from his position on the couch. He does feel good in his heart, though, that he really did OFFER to help....whether he meant it or not.
