No news is good news

Today, I ran to catch a bus and did not black out! Not even close!

A week after transfusion, I am slightly weak, a bit out of breath on occasion and a little pale, but oodles better than I was at the same time last week. What's more, with the new baseline of decay, side-effects of meds are not as nasty either. Like I said, no news is good news. Had more bloodwork done today (and, incidentally, my platelets must be up: my bruising now is minimal) and will know the results in a few days. I suppose that the results are not going to be exactly indicative of the true state of affairs, due to the continuing effects of the transfusion. Initially, it probably bumped my hemoglobin by about 4 points. So at most, I'll have to subtract those 4 points to arrive at the true levels, and actually it'll be less than that since it has been a week since the transfusion and my hemoglobin has probably dropped a bit since then. Anyway, that's all for now. It is weird, feeling at least closer to normal: I'd forgotten what it felt like!

Vampirism is good for you

I am back, having ingested a pint of AB+ and another one of AB- blood. I am not sure whether is was riboflavin-flavoured, but it certainly was NOT carbonated. Minor rash around the injection side that is subsiding as I type this. No other detrimental effects. On the other hand, I am now rosy-cheeked (literally!), bushy-tailed, bright-eyed and with a freshly stiffened frontal member. I can move faster than a snail without panting for air, and my lungs are no longer burning after 10 steps. Also, actually thinking and reading does not automatically make me drowsy. All in all, a good bargain, I suppose. But it took a goddamn long time, will probably cost me the rest of my yearly deductible and will last for 10 days at most. I hope that my hemoglobin rebounds at least a little bit by then: I don't really want to be spending most of every other Saturday at the outpatient transfusion center (which is now located in the cancer center) for the next two months. On the other hand, the nurses confirmed what I already suspected: I am fucking tough. They say that many other people have side-effects worse than mine (including anemia) and that most people with my hemoglobin levels would be whining and demanding a wheelchair rather than hoofing 2 miles to work and back daily. So yes, though I walk through the valley of death, I have no fear because I am the toughest meanest motherfucker in the whole damned valley! Hurrah! :D

Vampirism in reverse and other blood matters

The latest bloodwork results are in; apparently there is no depth of depravity to which my hemoglobin would not be prepared to sink. It is at 7.5 (or was, last Friday) which is well into the region of "severe anemia" and I have an appointment with reverse vampires now. On Sat Jun 9th at 0900 they will pump two units of someone else's red blood cells into my veins. If I do not report afterwards, consider the possibility that I may have exploded like a tick or a mosquito who'd sucked too much blood. But probably not.

In better news, my white blood cells, at least, have begun to climb back up. My doctor thinks that it is a sign that my bone marrow, ravaged by the triple therapy attack and now only forced to defend itself against double therapy attack, is beginning to recover somewhat. The effects of the transfusion will last for up to 10 days, during which time RBCs/hemoglobin will also have a chance to recover to less worrisome levels, Or so the thinking goes.

Finally, in completely bizarre news, my left arm had shrunk! The rash on it was much more severe than that on the right one, and it appears as if incivek had just eaten the muscle mass from under the rash! It still itches as well. Anyway, I'd lost about an inch from my bicep and my tricep is barely detectable. The arm feels like a ramshackle construction of skin, bone, dried-out cartilage, and bumpy rash scars. Whatever muscles are discernible are weak and flabby, and somehow hollow. This means that as soon as I get some oxygen in my bloodstream it'll be weight-lifting (and bicycling, but that's a different story!) time. Hurrah! Damn the anti-matter relativistic torpedoes! Onward, raving lunatics!

I really really REALLY REALLY want an Isestegi cider.