Back in early August I got my usual invitation to donate blood. I’d missed the last session for some reason & was keen to donate again – hubby & I were having a kind of race to see who could donate the most. He was a late starter to donating. I started soon after my 18th. I’d gotten a bit behind due to pregnancies (I lost 4 babies between my 2 kids) & a couple of low Hb periods so I wanted to keep my lead.
I shouldn’t really have gone. I’d had a cold & bit of a sore throat but somehow I felt I needed to go.
The nurse asked if i’d had a cold. I explained it was on its way out, & that was ok with her. She asked if I had a sore throat – I lied! I consoled myself by thinking if it was still sore the next day I’d ring & tell them.
So she pricks my finger, drops my blood into the test tube, and it sits there, quite happy floating on the top. ‘Maybe it’s the way I dropped it in’ she says squeezing my finger for another drop. This time it heads to the bottom of the test tube. Except it stops ½ way & bobs back up to the top.
I’m annoyed that I don’t have enough iron to donate, but slightly relieved that me having a sore throat no longer matters. She takes a bigger sample & sends it to the machine to get a reading.
It comes back 9.8 and she tells me to see the GP for some iron tablets. ‘Cant I just buy some over the counter?’ I ask. She explains the GP may want to investigate why my Hb is low, so off I trot.
The GP’s not too concerned. I’m female with regular & fairly heavy periods. She gives me a form for the usual tests when presented with a patient with anaemia.
One of the perks of being a nurse is my colleagues can take blood, saving me from having to wait at the GP surgery to see the Practice Nurse. The next day I deliver my blood, still warm to the front desk of the pathology department as I return to the office.
Another slightly naughty (ok, really naughty) thing about being a nurse is having access to results. My colleague takes a look because I’m curious to see if the over the counter iron tablets I got before seeing the GP made any difference. My Hb is up slightly, but a couple of parts of the liver function test are in red – abnormal.
As I said previously, I have a weakness for whisky and my thoughts were ‘that’s it, I’ve pickled my liver!’ When the phone rang and my GP introduced herself I thought I was in for a telling off!
She explained my liver was actually functioning ok – ‘phew’ I thought. But the raised protein suggested my body was possibly fighting a virus, of which I may not have any symptoms. She suggested retesting in 2 weeks & left another form for me to take to work. She explained that if the proteins were still high they’d do more specific tests, but not to worry, it wasn’t anything like cancer!!
Two weeks later, more warm blood delivered straight to the lab. A few days later, results slightly different but still areas in red. I wait to hear from the GP – nothing. Anxious to get the next test done I ring the surgery. The receptionist tells me they’ve not been viewed by the Dr yet. After a week & several calls to the surgery later, I finally hear from the very apologetic Dr who yet again agrees to leave the form for my collection & I get blood taken at work. She explained this test would take longer to process as they do them in batches.
It’s over a week later & the results still aren’t on the system. Maybe it’s just as well I have a week off work to tidy the house & prepare for a big house party at the end of the week, they’re bound to be done by my return.
It’s the first Monday of my week off & I’ve made lots of progress with the tidying. I’m paying for some shopping in Tesco in the evening when my mobile rings. It’s an unknown number so I leave it. The caller leaves a message. It’s my GP to say the latest test has come back & she needs to discuss it with me. I call back, & she’s just left for the day.
I contact my work colleagues & ask them to look at my results & email them to me the next day. Tuesday comes and the system’s down at work! I wait anxiously for the phone to ring. By mid afternoon I’m stressed. I decide to take a shower, knowing sods law the Dr might ring, so I take the phone into the bathroom with me. Sure enough it rings. It’s the Dr. I stand naked, shivering & wet as she tells me she has to refer me to haematology. She wants more blood to see how my Hb is, and a urine sample too. I ask questions. She mentions myeloma but says that it’s rare for my age & it’s probably just something that needs monitoring. She’ll do an urgent referral, and leave yet more forms in reception for me.
My urine form contains a ‘diagnosis’ – paraproteineamia. The test is looking for Bence Jones Protein.
I google both. My GP told me not to! Stupid thing to say really, especially to a nurse. Nurses know too much about some things, but not enough! Enough to worry about, but not enough to understand!
A colleague, sends me the results. I have a monoclonal gammopathy typed iGg Lambda. My paraproteins are 22. I Google this too.
I spend the week convinced I have Myeloma. The prognosis is poor. I have 10 years max. I cry when I think about my kids. How will I tell them? How will they cope without their mum? My treatment will affect my daughter doing her GCSE’s. My son will go off the rail. My parents will lose their first born. My husband will be widowed.
Eventually I get a grip. I re-read the information & take a more balanced view. It could be MGUS. Ok, that’s not good, but I could still get grey hair & wrinkles yet!
