Leukemia-Blood

blood

Blood is a bodily fluid in animals that delivers necessary substances such as nutrients and oxygen to the cells and transports metabolic waste products away from those same cells.

In vertebrates, it is composed of blood cells suspended in blood plasma. Plasma, which constitutes 55% of blood fluid, is mostly water (92% by volume),[1] and contains dissipated proteins, glucose, mineral ions, hormones, carbon dioxide (plasma being the main medium for excretory product transportation), and blood cells themselves. Albumin is the main protein in plasma, and it functions to regulate the colloidal osmotic pressure of blood. The blood cells are mainly red blood cells (also called RBCs or erythrocytes) and white blood cells, including leukocytes and platelets. The most abundant cells in vertebrate blood are red blood cells. These contain hemoglobin, an iron-containing protein, which facilitates transportation of oxygen by reversibly binding to this respiratory gas and greatly increasing its solubility in blood. In contrast, carbon dioxide is almost entirely transported extracellularly dissolved in plasma as bicarbonate ion.

Vertebrate blood is bright red when its hemoglobin is oxygenated. Some animals, such as crustaceans and mollusks, use hemocyanin to carry oxygen, instead of hemoglobin. Insects and some mollusks use a fluid called hemolymph instead of blood, the difference being that hemolymph is not contained in a closed circulatory system. In most insects, this “blood” does not contain oxygen-carrying molecules such as hemoglobin because their bodies are small enough for their tracheal system to suffice for supplying oxygen.

Jawed vertebrates have an adaptive immune system, based largely on white blood cells. White blood cells help to resist infections and parasites. Platelets are important in the clotting of blood. Arthropods, using hemolymph, have hemocytes as part of their immune system.

Blood is circulated around the body through blood vessels by the pumping action of the heart. In animals with lungs, arterial blood carries oxygen from inhaled air to the tissues of the body, and venous blood carries carbon dioxide, a waste product of metabolism produced by cells, from the tissues to the lungs to be exhaled.

Medical terms related to blood often begin with hemo- or hemato- (also spelled haemo- and haemato-) from the Greek word αἷμα (haima) for “blood”. In terms of anatomy and histology, blood is considered a specialized form of connective tissue, given its origin in the bones and the presence of potential molecular fibers in the form of fibrinogen.

Wikipedia

I know that was a hell of an introduction to today’s blog, but it was really important for me to reaffirm or institute a knowledge base for you to draw upon as I ramble on about our recent tribulations in regards to chemotherapy and its nasty after effects.

Leaving the hospital after 7 days of chemotherapy, Jacy feels good, not great but good.  Our hopes remain high and we press onward as no other options but to do so exist.  Two days out of the hospital and allergic reaction occurs after receiving a shot of Neupogen.

To the ER we head and a long night of tracing down this problem while treating associated symptoms ensues.

14 hours later we are home.

Jacy continues into the week still feeling well, but weaker by the day. Chemotherapy is working as designed, coursing through her body, and wreaking havoc as cell counts drop lower and lower.  Now here is where things get tricky. You see Jacy understands what it feels like to have an abnormally low cell count having experienced this phenomenon within the safe confines of a hospital. Because of this her doctor has her entrusted to recognize this feeling, make the appropriate phone calls and return to the local infusion center for a much needed blood transfusion, boosting cells back into her dying system.

Jacy instead decides to wait..

Why? Because she has an appointment for a blood draw later that day and she doesn’t want to inconvenience anyone. (Always the worrier) So we arrive at the designated time. One problem, she has become so cell depleted, I can barely get her out of the car into a hospital wheel chair. Wanting to take her straight to the ER (color is no good, breathing is shallow and she is exhausted from simple movements) I instead (per her request) head to the infusion center, as planned for her appointed blood draw.

Upon turning in our paperwork, a nurse appears from behind closed doors to grab multiple appointment slips from a basket and I quickly take this opportunity stop her, informing her of my wife’s worsening condition. Walking her over we find Jacy in her wheelchair, speaking repetitiously; I don’t feel well, help me I don’t feel well, something’s not right, something’s not right, I don’t feel well. The nurse takes one look at her and it’s off to the races.

Rapidly she is brought inside, her port tapped, blood drawn, and we are treated like gold as it quickly becomes obvious she is in need of more blood. To the ER we go!

In the ER, we are welcomed once again by friendly faces, my fears are calmed, my heart rate drops and we begin another arduous journey of emergency care.  Thinking this will be no big deal, it is after all just a blood transfusion one more in a list covering nine such applications over the last 30 days, I get her settled, talk with the doctor about the plan, watch as they put the standard medications on board for the delivery of blood and make a quick exit to run home ( a mere 7 miles away) and put our children to bed.

No big deal right?-WRONG

The text comes one hour later; Oh God, I am covered from head to toe in hives, my eyes, ears, scalp, everything! I itch so badly! I’ve had an allergic reaction to the transfusion and they are determining what to do!

Are you freaking kidding me! A reaction to the Neupogen (could have killed her) and now a reaction to blood, the one substance she needs most to survive! What the holy hell? Heart racing I head back over to the ER and meet up with my swollen, covered in hives wife!

After a long consult, the addition of a steroid that made her feel as though electricity was being pumped into her private parts (yes the vagina) and a substantial reduction in flow rate, with a large dose of Benadryl, Jacy nods off to sleep receiving the blood she so desperately deserves.

16 hours later, feeling like a million bucks Jacy comes home….

5 days later..

Jacy begins to feel “funny”. Yep it seems as though her body has still not hit rock bottom! Neupogen everyday and her bones are just starting to ache, which is a good sign; it means cells are trying to grow! But she doesn’t feel good, so this time she calls ahead, makes the proper arrangements, we head to the ER with plenty of time before her body hits rock bottom. The hospital can’t order the blood until she is physically on the property. So the sooner we arrive the better.  Walking through the door I am beginning to feel as though we have never left.  This place, this wondrous place of miracles is starting to feel like Groundhog Day to me.

Once checked in we walk to our room, none of the regulars are around so far, but as always the RN’s are amazing.  Jacy is settled into her room, her port is tapped, a very nice conversation between the male RN and me ensues.  It feels like old hat, unfortunately as though we belong here, and sadly a feeling like this will be her way of life forever comes over me. A thought enters my head; how many nurses will we meet in our life from this point forward? Will they all be as wonderful as those blessing us now?

Blood is ordered. The syrupy, red mixture she needs to survive. We are grateful for all those who donate, we feel good about this round, as though we have a handle on this procedure. I am also counting infusions now. After 20 infusions she risks developing an abundance of iron in her blood stream, which would mean she would need to have blood taken out every few weeks for the rest of her life. Yep feeling as though things may get a tad rougher..

Kissing her on the head, it’s all standard fare now, she asks that I leave and spend time with the children, telling me she will call in a few hours after the transfusion.  Once again against my better judgment, I realize the kids do need me and recede to the parking lot to retrieve my truck.

One hour later, I receive this text; having another allergic reaction, Epinephrine and tons of Benadryl, they have stopped the transfusion, my heart is pounding! It’s not good, I am afraid they won’t be able to give me transfusions anymore!

Rushing back to the ER I find my wife, sad, down, beaten. She is terrified because the doctors don’t know what to do. The blood she was receiving is sent off for testing, the Epinephrine is coursing through her system elevating her resting heart rate to 120-140 and she still feels sick.  As time passes she becomes weaker and weaker.  Without blood she dies, with blood and another allergic reaction she risks her lungs shutting down and she dies, it’s a no win situation.

The RN gives her another dose of Benadryl; slowly she drifts off to sleep.  A consult with Oncology in the morning is all we know. Before Jacy fell asleep she proclaimed to be very hungry and as I kiss her forehead to say goodnight, she tells me I am not allowed back into the room unless I bring her food! Food with protein!

Arriving home alone once again, I lay in bed worried for my wife. She is pale, doesn’t feel good, cannot receive the fluids she so desperately needs and it scares me. I sleep on her side of the bed…

The next day I arrive with an egg & cheese muffin sandwich in my hand! She wolfs it down and sips the English tea I also procured.  Sitting on the bed she lays in my arms and cries. She is tired of fighting, feels like giving up and states: I don’t want to do this anymore. This of course does not sit well with me. Holding her I reassure her; this is just a bump in the road all will be ok in a matter of time.  My heart is breaking, I stay strong, showing no emotion, but I am dying inside! Before our pity party can grow the RN enters the room; a plan is in place, slow down the drip (from one hour to four), a new steroid is to be used and all should go swimmingly.

The steroid is introduced, along with a giant bolus of Benadryl.  Jacy once again slips off to sleep. I watch patiently as the blood ever so slowly makes its way into my wife’s chest. Once there, my observation skills increase! Breathing-ok, Color-ok, heart rate-ok, blood pressure-ok, hives-none! All is good.  After a half an hour, the nurse talks me into going home, promising me to call me should anything go wrong. Reluctantly I do so…

18 hours later, 2 pints of blood, some platelets and feeling like a million bucks, she comes home…

Don’t ever take for granted that red fluid coursing through your veins. Leukemia is a cancer of the blood and blood is life, without blood you cannot exist. Be thankful if you have never needed blood, even more thankful if you have received blood. If you are healthy, have the time, or the desire to help someone in need. Please go and donate blood. It’s saving my wife’s life, one transfusion at a time, and for that I am eternally grateful….

blood 2

 

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Random thoughts on life and Leukemia

stars

Last night while gazing upon the stars at 1 am after our 5th medical response in a row my brain began reflecting upon life, its crazy highs and sock you in the gut lows. In a matter of 40 minutes myself and our crew had lent assistance to a wide generational swath of our local society.

From devastating self-destruction both mentally and through chemical intervention to an actual emergency need in conjunction with a health care system abused by those neither willing nor able to understand its legal ramifications, the resources lost, nor the world that actually doesn’t revolve around them personally. A true sampling of consensus within a short period of time.

Becoming judgmental is an easy undertaking, fighting the urge to prejudge individuals upon first encounter is hard. Being a fireman the communities trust is put in our hands to always do the right thing. See people for who they are not what they have become. We are allowed glimpses of people’s lives that would otherwise go unnoticed. That is a large responsibility. Some days it weighs heavier than others on my heart, as my eyes witness these revolving cross sections of our society I go home upset or unhappy with what I have seen. Thus the judgmental aspect forms and memories that cannot be erased etch themselves into my psyche permanently  like a scar for all to see, left for me to pick at from time to time for no other reason than because it exists.

Staring into the nights sky, pondering what it all means, fogging up my brain. Reliving experiences from my life, candid moments, snap shots and like a Grisham novel this story is all sewn together with a fabric of revelation. Every moment finding a place as to why. Why it happened, when it happened and that it happened to me. There is a meaning and the meaning determines not just who I am but WHAT I am or have become. The people in my life I hurt, loved, helped, shared experiences with and what I learned from each and every individual who has crossed my path, set eyes upon my craggy face.

Shaking my head as if my brain was an etch a sketch hoping to erase an unfinished drawing, I can’t lose this feeling that all is not enough.  There is more life to be lived,  we are trapped in a stereotype of how life should be lived and for the most part succeed out of learned habit. But what if there was more? We have one life to live, we are not guaranteed any days here on this earth, trust me I have held the hands of many who were cheated, watching those last moments fade away in their eyes, lives unfulfilled, potential disappeared, erased forever.

Yet the world still turns, it feels no repercussion from human losses. Sun rise, sun set, society still moves, people still awaken, babies are born, buildings erected, mountains moved and society trudges on. Eventually who you are or were, is destined to become a faint memory or forgotten. It is life and life goes on.

I live a life of fear. Fear that I will never be good enough, fear that my children may perish before me, to be forgotten before they had a chance to become something, anything that leaves a mark no matter how small upon this world.  Fear that my wife may lose this battle with Leukemia at some point, leaving sadness and despair to rage within our family. Fear that I will perish before I find what this longing is deep within my heart that whispers; no screams at me there is something more. A mark, a substantial mark that I am supposed to leave upon this earth. Complete narcissistic view I know, yet it lingers deep within my soul. Maybe I am already leaving that mark and just don’t see my hand to spite my face? Fear that she (my wife) will know the pain of losing me, carrying an ache, sorrow and agony with her for the rest of her days.  Fear.

So I stare up at the stars and I wonder why? Why do I feel this way? Why cant I be happy with the here and now. Why I worry about how much time I have left or lack there of? I wonder how I can be better, a better father, husband and friend, a better co-worker, I wonder why?

Remember those days when you felt as though you had the world by the balls? There was nothing to stand in your way, no mountain you couldn’t climb, no one was going to say no to you! Do you remember? I do.

If you don’t understand the feeling I am referring too, just look at your child. Not your self-absorbed teen ager; your child. 1-9 years of age. Before society, television and friends ruin their ability to think on their own, be creative beyond our walled off perceptions. Give a child an adult sized problem, one requiring and answer and you will see imagination, inspiration, out of the box thinking and a confidence just waiting to be tapped. But as they grow older that ability goes away through structure, through habits neither right or wrong learned from observing ones elders. That feeling you had as a kid of being able to daydream all your problems away. To look deep into a problem and come up with the craziest most unorthodox suggestion known to man. To be confident.

That is the way I feel about Leukemia in my life. I don’t have Leukemia, but when my wife suffers, I suffer, when she hears news both good or bad, my emotions grow raw with glee or anger. I refuse to hear the word no. There has to be a yes to this struggle. I refuse to believe that my wife wont beat this disease. I refuse to listen to statistics and the medical dribble that often accompanies those numbers. And to date she is winning, we can see the finish line and victory looks great!

I feel as though my wife has the world by the balls! That she has another opportunity, showing the world she is unbreakable. That feeling has inspired me, left me in awe of her positive attitude, her out of the box thinking. She unknowingly has allowed me to reconnect with my inner child. There are no problems that cannot be tackled without imagination. She has left me finding the positive, loving all who surround me, laughing just a little bit harder, saying thank you a whole lot more and remembering that life is a gift to be cherished. I kiss her on the head every night while she sleeps, the smell of her skin soothing my soul. She has and is all I will ever need.

And so I am left staring at the stars, at one in the morning, wondering if there is or could there ever be, more………

kids