The Lost Hours

Somewhere
between 3:35 and 5: 58 a.m.,
time dissolved,
slumber drifted away,
and I realized it was Wednesday morning.
I was having trouble sleeping again.

But this time, I was not in my own bed.
Trying to sleep beside me, was Jeff,
struggling to fit onto an over-used recliner.

Anemia had driven me to the E.R.
and admitted me into the hospital.

Before Tuesday, I had no idea that anemia could be such a serious condition.
In my ignorance, I thought anemia was something that little, frail, skinny women got because they were always cold. Anemia was for "girlie" women.

I thought back:
When was the last time I didn't feel tired, dizzy, light-headed or out of breath?
Why couldn't I climb a flight of stairs, without having to rest
or felt my heart, pounding beyond my chest?
How many times had I taken pills to help me sleep?
Was my vision distorted every morning, when I awoke?
Had it been two weeks or three?

As I casually mentioned the symptoms to my radiation oncologist,
she insisted that I NOT drive to Walter Reed the following day, but have blood work done across the hall that afternoon.
At 9:30 Tuesday night, Jeff answered the phone.
"Who's calling," he asked?
"Johns Hopkins," Jeff mouthed.

An urgency resonated from the unfamiliar voice on the other end of the phone.
"CBC results...yada, yada...Hematocrit low...yada, yada...hemoglobin low...yada, yada..."
Translation needed now, my brain screamed!
I quickly handed the phone back to Jeff, but not before hearing:

"GET THEE TO AN EMERGENCY ROOM!!! BLOOD TRANSFUSION STAT!!!!"

I was admitted to a room in the hospital, while the blood bank searched for a cross-match to my blood type. The Red Cross was notified. More than 24 hours passed before blood was found. During my stay, I tried negotiating a temporary release from anyone who would listen: the techs, nurses, and doctors. They all had the same response, a smile and patronizing, "Uh...no."
Maybe I would have had better luck with the housekeeper.

It was Friday morning before four units of "least incompatible" blood had been completely transfused through the port in my chest. Turns out I have Hemolytic Anemia, a condition in which, red blood cells are destroyed shortly after they are created. A total match would not have been possible, but I am feeling better and greatful to be back home.