Doctor's Visit Number Two

My second doctor’s appointment was on February 16th. I was about three-quarters as nervous as I was before the first doctor’s appointment in January. That one was to determine my fate. This one was more devoted to preservation.

      In the weeks between my first and second doctor’s appointments my hemoglobin rose and dropped like a bouncing ball. On February 8^th it was only 90. It should have been about 115. Because I was driving to Wellington in two days’ time, the nurse said it would be safer if I got “a couple of packs of blood” before I went. I was okay with that. In fact I felt good about getting the blood before I went. I had been a little bit lightheaded and I did not want to drive for nine hours not knowing if it would be safe. I explained it to Alex by saying: 

      “I have to get topped up.”

      It sounded like I was a petrol tank. It was funny but odd. It was like I was only half-human now. I was a kind of Terminator who ran on pharmaceuticals and other people’s blood. What a changed world we lived in.

      On transfusion day I grimaced as the needle entered my vein. I had a flash forward to my big hospital stay in July and how much pain I was going to be in then. The nurse put a warm compress on top of the site. It settled down and no longer hurt. I was given two units of O positive blood. It took hours. Alex made phone calls out in the hall and then sat next to me and worked on his laptop. I finished reading Howards End on my iPad.

After my first transfusion in December the nurses said:

      “You’ll feel so much better.”

      But I didn’t notice any difference. I figured maybe I hadn’t been quite so depleted then, like maybe I still had at least half a tank. So I had high hopes for today. I figured the stranger’s blood would hydrate me like a tall glass of water after walking through the desert.  But I didn’t get a sudden burst of energy. It didn’t even put me in a better mood.