Irony

In retrospect, the first inkling I had of a possible blood-borne issue came about 8 months prior to my diagnosis.  The girls and I (often Sara) would make a fairly regular habit of donating blood at area drives (Daughter-Daddy Donation Date).  We went to one at a bloodmobile in our local Wal-Mart parking lot (mull on that for a moment), and I was rejected for low hemoglobin (10.1 – I erroneously thought 11 was normal for men; it’s more like 14 – and therefore just imagined they were being extra cautious).  I tried again a few months later at a blood drive at an Oncology healthcare providers convention (work-related), and was once again turned away at 10.1

At the time I was frustrated and embarrassed that I couldn’t donate.  Now, in retrospect, how ironic that the act of donating blood (providing red blood cells for people needing transfusions; of which I received two within the week shortly after my diagnosis), was actually the first opening of the window-of-awareness for me that something was wrong.  Too blind or ignorant (or too much like a bad episode of “Marcus Welby, MD”) I missed this cue and only later had more pieces of seemingly disparate evidence that lead me to get that back pain checked out (over-taxed kidneys) and my eventual revelation.

In my case, a few months delay of learning the inevitable didn’t make a difference to my prognosis or treatment, but isn’t it ironic that it all started with a drop of blood from a finger stick trying to help someone who may need a transfusion.  (PS: Extensive research and a rigorous screening system make transmission of cancer via a blood transfusion virtually impossible – statistically and medically -- http://www.abc.net.au/science/articles/2012/10/23/3616950.htm)