a bit of excitement

Hi all,

We’re fine.  Which is so exciting, because Thursday night fine was only one of the options on the menu, and it wasn’t clear for a while there what we were ordering.

Here’s a quick, damn the suspense and full speed ahead rendition, to be fleshed out later when we’re not so tired:

Since Val’s 6th chemo last Friday her platelets have been low.  Platelets, you’ll recall, are good for clotting, which means causing bleeding to stop.  With low platelets a person can be at risk for bleeding that is less inclined to stop.

Lately Val has been having nosebleeds.  When she began chemo in June, we were told to watch out for nosebleeds.  Nosebleeds were expected, but since the trial drug, Apomab, has rare but serious bleeding side effects, we were instructed that if Val ever had a nosebleed lasting longer than 30 seconds we should hurry over to Emergency.  The 30-second guideline has been relaxed in the last several weeks as Val’s platelet count diminished, but this week we’ve been nervously watching her nose all day as it slowly, intermittently seeps blood.  (Even more nervously we’ve been keeping alert for other symptoms like sudden headaches.)

I’m told the platelet count for a healthy person is around 140.  When Val’s bloodwork was done Thursday, her platelet count was 36, and her red blood cell count was also low.  TerriSue began talking about the possibility of a transfusion.  But her medical guidelines call for transfusion when the platelet count is below 30, and Val seemed to be doing okay, in a feeling-very-crummy-and-having-lots-of-nosebleeds sort of way, so TerriSue felt we should wait, and Val consulted with her daily. Transfusions themselves are not without risk, and in a couple weeks Val’s body should be back online, producing its own blood and platelets.

Perhaps you can guess where this is going.

Short version: late Thursday night Val got a nosebleed that wouldn’t quit.  First running, then trickling, then seeping, but never stopping.  By 2:00 a.m. we were on our way to Emergency, and that’s where Val spent the next 14 hours.  Various things transpired, beginning with blood draws and a vasal vegal response (Val passing out with unpleasant zombie-like flair) and ending with a platelet and red blood cell transfusion Friday.  Along the way we had:

• a visit to the Nosebleed Room, with its mysterious cabinet drawers labeled “Rapid Rhino” and “Bone Wax”
• a close call with nasal cauterization
• an uncomfortable time in an ob-gyn bed
• a game of Hangman (resulting in the inadvertent petty theft of a dry-erase marker)
• a reassuringly competent nurse
• an alarmingly incompetent nurse
• Friday visits from Amy and Kyla and Nik and Cynthia.  Amy (amazingly alert when we woke her up at 5:30 a.m.) brought over a deluxe breakfast, making it possible for us to survive the next few hours. It also made possible the pleasingly incongruous sight of an instrument tray bearing syringes and medical tubing next to a honey bear.
• fear, relief, fear, relief, anxiety, laughter, love
• plenty of toasty blankets

I also overheard a conversation among nurses? residents? interns? in scrubs at about 4 a.m. that went like this:

Are those gummi bears?  Can I have some?
Oh hey, can I have some too?  I love gummi bears.
Yeah, gummi bears are great!  You know last week I stuck a gummi bear to my scrubs and it stayed stuck on for twelve hours!  And then when I finally peeled it off it left a gummi bear shaped stain.

Anyway, now we are back home.  No nosebleeds last night (halle-freakin-lujah) and this morning we both feel so much better.  Val feels perkier than I’ve seen her in a week, a combination of new blood and platelets, a release of anxiety, and her body recovering from chemo.  And the wonderful thing is, this time when she begins to feel better, she gets to keep feeling better.

Love Deborah

p.s. I am so grateful to all you people who give blood (and platelets).  Thank you.  You actually save lives.  I’ve seen it.