Blood transfusion.
In this whole canon of cancer treatment, I haven’t found anything as triggering and taboo as having someone else’s blood pumped into your body. Just the idea of it is science fiction reminiscent of superheroes getting their superpowers, of weird turn-of-the-century science experiments, and, for some, a fixation on the origin of the blood - an eerie curiosity at best or total ‘oh HELL no’ terror at worst.
Being creeped wasn’t an issue for me. In fact, I had no problem just assuming my blood was that of a vivacious, sassy, energetic youth and in receiving their blood I was absorbing those same qualities. I’ve read stories of organ donation recipients experiencing changes in preferences, alterations in emotions/temperament, modifications of identity, and memories from the donor's life after their transplant. Could that happen with blood? Will I see colors differently or suddenly feel the urge to hang a toothpick from my mouth or crave putting Bugles on my fingers or any other vast number of qualities that blood donor had? I guess this answers the party question “if you could switch bodies with someone else, would you?” (and bring up a WHOLE other set of questions about what kind of parties I go to.)
When offered to get the transfusion (after telling me I would feel better and that it is extremely common for this chemo regimen) I immediately said yes. No consideration or research or conversation was needed - at least not about the transfusion. There was a pressing and immediate conversation that happened in the hours between the oncology office and waiting for the call from infusion services and it was about Twilight.
Yes, that Twilight, the tween movie series adapted from a book that was so popular in the late 2000’s that a white elephant gift exchange with me and my almost 30-year-old friends ended in some real bad blood (eh oh!) after an intense and last-second swap of the coveted newly released New Moon in paperback caused the party to go all silent violence and end in awkward bitterness.** Back at the Schmidtke (then the Gorman/Schmidtke) house, we were still in the young love stage and the clear division of teams was a pivotal moment with Evan on Team Jacob, me on Team Edward. Evan was less…passionate…about the books (see: he’s never read them) but we saw all 4 movies in the theater together. It was during the theater viewing of New Moon that Evan shamelessly and sensually declared to the world his Team Jacob affiliation. It was that scene when Jacob appeared wet and freshly haircutted in the field acting out his best “I’M GRUMPY AND CONFLICTED!” face when Evan, maybe involuntary but mostly because he’s a funny boy, let out an audible moan. I was startled, then tickled into laughter, then embarrassed, looking around to see if the theater was staring at us and realized, no - his moan blended in with all the other moans thus neutralizing it. Yep, that’s how weird that late 2000s were.***
Let’s Tarantino this and go back to the beginning.
Technology is bloody awesome.
I found myself on Tuesday alone once again with the oncologist discussing why I may have had seizures and how we should proceed. I had 3 questions.
Why did the seizures happen and will they come back again? It’s a mystery. The best guess is stress. The stress of the intensity of this treatment combined with my self-inflicted stress/anger from the Covid surge and subsequent community shit storm surrounding the overrun hospital, overworked medical staff, and now limited access to medical care and support for me and many others. As a precaution, he recommended I skip the lumbar chemo as that procedure may have been the culprit - we just don’t know. The bottoming out of my white blood cells is to be expected and receiving a blood transfusion is the antidote to help me feel better and stay on track in treatment. It’s been offered to me on other treatments, but decided now is the time. As advertised, each cycle the symptoms are getting a little more intense and I could use the help. Anything to stay on track, prevent seizures, and welcome the possibility of unexplainable superpowers is all right with me.
Should I get the Covid booster shot? The short answer - not yet. The same chemo that’s blasting the C-bag out of my blood would also blast away the efficacy of the booster. The minute I’m in remission, I’m getting a lift-off.
Is it safe to continue treatment at this overflowing hospital? Since the beginning, my wonderful and well-dressed oncologist has always made clear that I hold the power in where I receive treatment. He also walked me through the realities of doing so: I could go back to Iowa or to Portland, but I’d be working with a new oncology team and there may be a wait to transition to them. With the pandemic surge happening all across the world, there’s no guarantee my risk of getting Covid would be less elsewhere. What I would be risking Is delaying my treatment and that is not something I want to do unless I have to. We are staying put, and staying put means, for those 6 inpatient days, we remain inside our room - no more quest to walk 50-miles around the floor. We’ll be active in our care, limit the non-essential guests who visit, and I’ll do yoga and go all Tour de France on the mini foot bike. You better believe the Twilight movies are all queued up to pass the time. #TeamAro***
As for the transfusion itself, the process is less glamourous than it sounds. I check in at the hospital and am brought up to the same floor I receive inpatient treatment into an infusion services room. It’s what most of us associate with chemotherapy treatment; a well-lit room laid out in a circle with IV poles stationed next to large, blue plastic recliners where patients in various stages of hair/face color loss sit with warm blankets, headphones, and books to receive their treatment. After a pre-med cocktail of anti-nausea meds and Benedryl, they verify my identity, access the port in my chest with tubing, hang a smaller-than-you’d-think bag of blood on an IV pole, and connect that back into tubing that flows into the port. Chest blood drips for 2ish hours. Ewwww! Chest blood! Now, 48 hours later, I feel like I could climb a tree and sparkle like a diamond in the sun. I’m also feeling the strong urge to watch movies from the 1950s and eat pickles. Is there a superpower in that combo somewhere?
In conclusion:
Blood transfusions 4.5 stars
Twilight series: 2.5 stars
Arbitrary footnotes:
**There’s no argument to be had, these movies are terrible. But terrible in the really wonderful way bad movies are good. I’m a little too thrilled that the “where the hell have you been Loca?!” scene from Twilight is having a TikTok moment. Truly terrible acting and writing but, dang, those Pacific Northwest vibes and the soundtracks are on. point.
***Michael Sheen is a GD British treasure and acts his heart out in this “film” series. Who do I have to call to get an Aro spinoff show? I imagine that it’s part couples therapy, part Judge Judy where he hears out the complaints of each party in the couple then does that devilishly gentle hand-touch-memory-reading thing and gets the real story than the person who most accurately represented AKA wins the argument gets to choose which member of the other person’s friends or family gets blood sucked by Aro. Blood sucked? Is that the right verb? You know what I mean. Let’s get this on fall sweeps!
Aro consults the angsty couple with lots of hand touching. Ewww x 2.