"Pass the Crimson to me, Jimson"

Those of my generation (or older) might remember the Nervous Norvus "hit", "Transfusion", which I recall having on perhaps a well-worn 45 as a kid, though it may have actually been on an LP collection called "Goofy Greats" that sounds vaguely familiar to me. My  brother may remember more clearly what we had. 

Anyhow, there is a point to all this reminiscing. I'm currently at Abbott Northwestern awaiting a red blood cell

Transfusion. Well, two transfusions, technically. Or one transfusion of two units. 

The reason for all of this is that my hemoglobin (part of red blood cells that function as oxygen transport) has been steadily falling since my chemo treatment with the new drug, Alimta, a couple of weeks ago.

My low Hgb could be a large factor in my shortness of breath over the past few weeks. Even with the supplemental portable oxygen, I'm still functioning as if I live at about 12,000 feet. I did for a number of years live at about 9,000 feet up, and had much, much more energy than I do now. 

Supposedly, the positive effects Of the infusion (more O2, more energy) will be felt just about right away, and may last for a few weeks, potentially. But now we know that in my body the chemo and the Hgb fight against each other. I'm scheduled for chemo next week, and the hope is -- with this transfusion -- that I'll be strong enough to go through with chemo as planned. It also means that I might be able to leave the house and maybe play a few songs at a house concert in a week or two. I'm hopeful that I can reclaim some "normal"-ness, at least for awhile.

Living with this shortness of air is at best annoying, and at worst hugely anxiety-producing for me. The tubing (when home) and the shoulder tank (when going out) are cumbersome and make me very self-conscious. Even the exertion of climbing the 4 steps up from the back door after letting the dog out or in are sometimes too much for me and afterward I collapse on the couch, gasping for air and trying to remember to breathe deeply and slowly. Meanwhile my heart is racing, partly from anxiety that I'll stop breathing, and also because my heart is trying like mad to push the blood around to make up for the oxygen deficiency. 

So I'm looking forward to the end result of the transfusion. The process isn't much different from my chemo infusions, except that the transfusion takes longer, and the blood is refrigerated so I'll be very chilly all day.

Oh, and, while I'm on the general subject: donate blood. It's the right thing to do, and they give you cookies. If you're eligible to donate blood platelets, you could literally be a lifesaver. Platelets are in the shortest supply, nationally, as they only have a shelf life of 7 days. Some cancer patients need blood platelet infusions a few times a week, even. There are some donors who will donate for a dedicated patient (in order into make it easier on their immune systems) and these relationships could go on for years. To be clear, right now I don't need platelets, just red cells. But there are many out there who desperately need your blood. The blood donation center will figure out what blood product you're the best candidate for donating and -- assuming your blood is clean, which they'll test for up front -- they'll take it over and over again. They don't pay for blood (like they sometimes do with plasma) so it truly is a donation. But it makes you feel really good. And not just because you're light-headed from the brief drop in blood volume.

I have donated blood many times in my life, and I feel better about being a blood recipient today knowing that I have also given. 

Want to help? Not sure what to do? Donate blood!