I'm back.
The platelet infusion was a bit of a dog's breakfast. They got me down there at 1430, and got me in the chair and then. . .
ooops! I needed my port opened.
ooops! I needed my blood typed.
Ooops! we need to order your blood.
Bottom line: they started me on the chicken soup (platelets look like chicken soup.) about 1600 and at 1610 I started noticing the room getting dark and I was getting a little tingly. That was the wrong thing to say.
These people are on a hair trigger on giving blood products. Anything in the least untoward is seen as a prelude to anaphylactic shock. Nothing happened. They dosed me up good on Benedryl through the IV and sent me home. They start back on it early tomorrow. I'll start with a dose of Benedryl and then I'll probably be so bombed that the room could fly away and I won't know. They threw us out at 1750.
The entire shamanic tribe met us at home, and I had to make two runs to various chicken joints to cater the affair.
Joke of the day: I told the folks down at the IV Therapy that I wanted to make sure they got me the right kind of blood products, ethnically speaking. While they were sputtering, I added I was hoping to get something wild and exotic; it might change my taste in food or something-- whatever it was, I didn't want any of that stodgy German crap.
Last edited by shaman; 05/12/22.
