Allergy Testing

When something traumatic happens, people respond in different ways. Some cry, some get angry, others might go numb. Some people confront things head on while others bury their head in the sand. It's all normal. However, what do you do when you've gone through all the common responses already? You've sobbed all night and day, you've pretended it wasn't real. You've shouted at whatever it is you might pray to and cursed those who didn't stop it from happening. 

As a child, when I was afraid of something, I wrote stories and left them lying around for people to find. I'm going to attempt to do that now and hope that it has the same therapeutic effect. Maybe someone will read it, maybe they won't, but hopefully it will help with the trauma.

June 3rd - I went to a GP to get some blood tests for allergies. Having suffered months of extreme fatigue, sinus pain and general ill health, I prepared myself for a possible allergy to my cats or being told I couldn't eat potatoes anymore. A few weeks went by with no results so I hunted them down. The receptionist said 'Yep they're all fine', and hung up the phone. A few minutes later, the doctor rang my phone and told me that one group of my white blood cells - neutrophils - were a bit low. He said it was nothing to get excited about, but that I should repeat the test in a few weeks.

July 15th - I went back up for a repeat. The nurse told me that lots of people have low neutrophils with no reason behind it and it usually rights itself. I went home feeling very fatigued but continued with my day. The next day, the doctors number appeared on my phone. My stomach went warm and I felt faint. This was not good. They don't call you less than 24 hours later with good news. He told me that the neutrophils had dropped again and were now at what was considered 'moderate to severe'. 

'It's probably neutropenia!' he said. 'That would explain all your sinus infections and fatigue so I've referred you to a haematologist. As long as you feel well, then you've nothing to worry about!'.

.... As long as i feel well??? What's well? I think it's pretty obvious that I DON'T feel well.

I should mention that 6 years ago, a family member was diagnosed with Lymphoma, so this was the first concern that entered all of our heads. Thankfully, he fought like a beast and came out the other side of it, but the paranoia was there that it was now my turn. After a day of worrying myself to the point of insanity, I decided to take my results to the family GP for a second opinion. She said she had been seeing a lot of this recently and it usually rights itself by the time you get to a consultant. She told me to get plenty of sleep and try to heal my body with rest.

July 31st - I went to my appointment in the hospital with my sister. There was a long wait ahead so we tried to get settled. After a while, I was called into a scary room full of people with IV drips. I distracted myself with the thought of my brother walking into that room. Haematology would not be his favourite topic. I had more tests done and after another hour or two wait, I got called in to see the consultant.

He went through all my history of symptoms and ailments. He studied all the info I gave him and examined me for any unusual lumps or bumps. The term neutropenia came up again as did the sentence 'as long as you feel well'... I stopped him there and pointed out that I don't. That I'm exhausted and that it's the reason I'm here. Thankfully, the doctor listened to me and decided to book me in for a bone marrow biopsy to rule out anything sinister. He assured us "There's not really any pain involved, it's just a pulling sensation". It was hard not to laugh at him for almost sounding convincing.

August 5th - Just a pulling sensation.
It's very rare for me to cry from pain, especially in front of a stranger. The bone marrow biopsy with 'sedation' and 7 local anaesthetic injections was possibly the first time that I lost that much control of myself and shook crying while a consultant performed a bone marrow biopsy, then told me he would have to do it again on the other side of my spine as it didn't work. When he was finished this torturous procedure and I was still sobbing (so unlike me), he patched me up and sent me on my way. I walked out the door, gulping on sobs as I walked past everyone in the blood test room and on into the waiting room.

I wasn't expecting to see anyone there, so the sight of Paul waiting on me with a concerned smile on his face was the thing that pushed me over the edge. I pointed at the exit doors and once through, he pulled me into a quiet corner to let me cry it all out. I don't remember much of the journey home except for the pain shooting down my legs. My family were furious that the doctor had continued on with me in that state, clearly about to pass out from pain, but I suppose it had to be done. It's not like I was ever going to go back for a repeat.

August 6th - "We have some preliminary results for you, could you come in and see us tomorrow first thing?"

I knew it.... I knew it would be me.

August 7th - Up until the moment I heard the words, the tears were just waiting to come out. What if he tells me and I throw up everywhere?? I sat with my Mam and Paul, staring through this man who had butchered me two days previous. He thought he was successfully hiding the bad news then made one small but critical move. In the middle of talking about my test results, he stopped and in a completely different tone said - 'I'm sorry, I never introduced myself to your family'. That's when I knew it. I am going to lose my hair.

I was strangely calm when he told me. It's like I already knew. The pain in my spine the last few weeks was something I had never felt before. Not muscle or joint or disc pain.. this was different. This was bone pain. And that strange bloated feeling in my stomach the last three weeks. That was no normal reaction to gluten. I felt it. My instinct told me I was sick.

The strange thing was, we were all expecting to hear Lymphoma. But he didn't say that. Instead he said - Leukaemia. Aggressive. We need to take you in straight away and keep you in. I need to see if I can get you a bed today or tomorrow at the latest. 

Tomorrow at the latest???? How sick am I?????

My Mam told him it was my birthday on Tuesday and could we at least wait 'til then? He absolutely refused. It was then that I started to really feel just how unwell I am.

I'll stop this blog here for now. That's enough for anyone to read at once. The next time I feel well enough, I will write about the first few nights in a High Dependency Unit of a hospital.

The moral of the story is, if you know in your gut that you don't feel well, don't let doctors dismiss you. Make someone listen.