During my treatments and process of transfusions/infusions, I am routinely asked a myriad of questions that are sometimes to simple to answer and sometimes rather ponderous.My last infusion (just the iron) took about 9-10 hours. When my infusion begins there is prep work done - the administering of Benedryl and corticosteroid to avoid anaphylactic shock, which is good because I do have allergic reactions to the iron; checking vital signs and of course, getting comfortable for the arduous process.
This most recent visit was my most difficult. Not because it took the nurse 3 attempts to lay the IV line; not because at the end of the infusion my veins collapsed leaving a visible scar; and not because even with the Benedryl/steroids I still had a terrible rash. But because for the entire 9-10 hour process I was amongst a constantly rotating group of individuals receiving chemotherapy.
With each new patient my heart went out to them and the less sick I felt. It wasn't until late in the day when another patient had taken her spot, began her treatment, subsequently ended her treatment, that I was then reminded about personal perspective.
She observantly noted that I had been there for a while. I could have been the plethora of magazines, rotation of water bottles, or the massive bag of "sludge" that was draining into my body. Iron is very reminiscent of molasses, which is why is takes so long to administer through IV. (Note: There are different forms, some of which are done in an hour or two, but it is a much lower dosage) After a few minutes of perplexing glances, this kind-hearted patient asked, "What are you doing here today and what time did you start?" I politely stated that I had begun at 8:30am (it was 5:30pm) and then explained the iron infusion and why I needed it. At that moment, she had this "Bless her heart" look on her face and exclaimed, "Oh my goodness! I would hate to have to do that! You are so sick and are so young, poor thing. I will keep you in my thoughts so you get better." I had no words to offer in response.
This sweet woman, who had already lost most of her hair and was certainly battling for her life thought what I was doing was a tragic affair - in that fleeting second, I saw that however bad a situation can be, there is always an opportunity to lift someone else up.
In her perspective, she was doing a treatment for herself which, sadly, had become - routine. I, on the other hand, was someone new, much younger, and looked perfectly healthy. What's that old saying, "Never judge a book by it's cover"? Well, this can be the case with Anemics - sometimes we look/feel sick, sometimes we don't.
Her seemingly simple question has been with me since I left and I doubt that I will forget her perspective of "how bad things can be." Afterall, this is "normal" to me.









