My First Blood Transfusion - Part Two
(Read Part 1) As my mother and I drove out to the hospital together to get my blood drawn for the blood transfusion the next day, all I could think about was what my life was going to be like now. Was I always going to be a sick person? It didn’t make sense. My mother has Crohn’s and she’s never had any big issues. What was wrong with me?
We arrived at the hospital and after filling out the proper paperwork, we were called back to an area where a nurse was ready to draw some blood. She started prepping my arm to stick me and I broke down in silent, whimpering tears. I couldn’t help it. I was just so overwhelmed and so exhausted. I really wasn’t sure how much more I could take.
“Oh my gosh,” the nurse said, looking at mother, “she’s breaking my heart!”
“I’m s-sorry,” I said wiping away the tears, “i-it’s j-just that I’ve b-been stuck so many times this week and I’m tired of all these tests.”
“It’s alright girl! I just wish I could help!”
My mother cried, too.
It didn’t take a lot of time to get my blood drawn, and when it was over my mother took me back home where I opted to get some sleep before my boyfriend arrived. When he got there, he said it was the first time he realized that there was something wrong with me. I was pale, underweight and just had an overall “sick” look.
The next morning we drove out to the hospital for the blood draw.
I was extremely nervous, but having David there made it easier. When I was called back, the nurse led us to a small room. Before the nurse began, David asked if there was any way he could donate his blood for me.
“No, it has to go through a whole process that takes about 72 hours.” The nurse explained.
The nurse prepped me for the transfusion. She was a pro! No digging around in my arm to find a vein, just a quick stick and a couple of Benadryl and I was ready to go. The infusion blood was very cold, but it wasn’t so bad.
The nurse asked me why I was having the transfusion, saying, “Is this because of a GI bleed?”
“Yes… I have either Crohn’s or ulcerative colitis.”
She nodded and handed me a warm blanket, some coffee and a few cookies. I thought I was going to freak out, but somehow, this nurse made things easier. This wasn’t bad at all.
When it was all over, David and I went out to lunch. I was so thankful that he was there for me during the entire ordeal. I don’t know how I would have gotten through it without him.
I was officially diagnosed with ulcerative colitis two or three days later.
UC has certainly caused our relationship a lot of grief, but David didn’t let it get in the way. Eight months later, he married me. Warts (or, busted guts) and all.
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