… in which I’m maybe not the best patient ever

Previously on The Day I Didn’t Get a Blood Transfusion, our hero starts losing blood and is instructed to discontinue Coumadin, one of her blood thinners. The ever-stoic Dr. Flatline admits he can’t decide whether she should go to the hospital promptly for a transfusion or wait and see how things progress through the day. Predictably, our hero opts to forgo the hospital in favor of staying home and ingesting as much Vitamin K as possible in an attempt to counteract the Coumadin. The bleeding does not stop, however, and our hero resigns herself to going to the hospital – but surely it can wait until the next day to save her the fees for an overnight stay. We join our woozy protagonist Tuesday morning…

White on white translucent black capes
Back on the rack

II.  The Quest for Quantifiable Data

Tuesday morning, the bleeding hadn’t stopped but I still didn’t want to go to the hospital. I decided to update Dr. Flatline on my condition and confess to not going in for a transfusion Monday night. Flatline explained that my hematocrit was probably quite low, which is why I probably needed a transfusion. Hematocrit is a measurement of the red blood cell volume in your blood. The normal range for hematocrit is 40-45; a hematocrit level of 30 is considered a “transfusion trigger.”

We didn’t know what my hematocrit level was since I had not had a complete blood count (CBC) test done since the bleeding started. Still hospital-averse, I asked Flatline if we could get a blood test and then decide.  If my level was too low, I’d head to the ER. Flatline agreed to fax the blood draw order to a lab near my house.  En route to the lab, I called to make sure they had received the order and they hadn’t. In a SNAFU-induced panic, I decided to go to Flatline’s office instead. It’s a giant practice and they have a phlebotomist there who could do the draw.

Ooh! A new member in our cast of characters: the phlebotomist, Fabulous. He has a smile and disposition that shine as bright as Dorothy’s ruby slippers and, as I would eventually discover, a touch so gentle you don’t even notice when he sticks a needle in your arm. He also color-coordinates his scrubs and his shirt to his bracelet and the accent stripe on his shoes. Fabulous.

Flatline saw me pass outside his exam room when I was headed to visit Fabulous and he came out to see me. He noted my vampiric pallor; that my lips were white; and that the whites of my eyes lacked any of those little red veiny things that indicate you do, in fact, have blood in your body. Those clues, plus my mild delirium and my inability to stand or walk without assistance, prompted him to suggest The Buddhist take me to the hospital without delay and get the lab work done while there. He’d call ahead to the ER to let them know I was coming. We took the blood test order and Fabulous wheelchaired me out of the gigantic office, all the way down to the lobby, and then waited with me while The Buddhist got the car.

On the way to the hospital, we talked ourselves out of going.

It was late afternoon. The kids would already be home from school by now. Arriving at the hospital this late would surely mean an overnight stay. And we still hadn’t done the blood test! It seemed silly to go get the test done in the ER when we could get it done at the lab near our house now that we had the order in hand. If the results indicated it was necessary, I could always go to the ER in the morning when the chance of being kept overnight would be lower. Basically, we were afraid if I went to the hospital, they would keep me. Last time I went, I fully expected to be home that evening with instructions to take an antacid and stop being a drama queen. Instead, I spent the bulk of a week in ICU.

I called Flatline’s assistant and asked her to call the ER and tell them I wasn’t coming and to let Flatline know I was going to the lab to get the CBC done. There was a very short wait at the lab before they brought me back for the blood draw. Flatline called 4 times. When we spoke, I promised to go to the hospital if things got worse. We agreed to talk in the morning when the test results were in.

…to be continued