Mercedes was admitted to the hospital. She was going to be put to sleep, have her bone marrow removed from the back of her pelvis bone, and save my life. I hugged her and wished her luck before she left to go get it done. I waited and waited until about noon when the nurse came in with bags and bags of what looked like blood (but was actually bone marrow). They hooked the bag up to my central line and put it on a hanger. It wasn't on any type of a pump because they wanted to let gravity do it's thing and let it go into me at a natural pace.
But gravity wasn't working and so after a few hours of it hanging the bone marrow was going to "spoil" if they didn't get it into me. So to get the last few bags into me, they brought in these GIANT syringes to physically push it into my central line. And by giant I mean a foot long and 3 inches wide. HUGE. I think I had about 7 or 8 of those syringes to get in to me in one hour. So the poor nurse got her work out in. I think the funniest part was that when she was pushing it in, I could taste it. Now most people would think that was really gross. But Mercedes' bone marrow tasted of cream corn and bacon. So I was not too upset about. I got all of my bone marrow and was on my way to a health. Kinda.
So back up a few hours. After I had first gotten the bone marrow, I kept asking about Mercedes and if she was awake yet. How was she doing? Finally after about an hour and a half my mom came in looking kind of upset. She sat down next to me and told me not too get upset and that everything was okay. Immediately I panicked. What was wrong with her? What did they do??
My mom told me that when Mercedes woke up, she began vomiting blood. She said it was because when they inserted the breathing tube, it nicked the side of Mercedes' esophagus or stomach or something causing blood to drain into her stomach. I began to cry. How could they have messed up like that? She was doing an amazing thing for me and they made it that much harder. And the worst part was they took copious amounts of bone marrow because they had "the more, the better" mentality. So not only did she lose tons of blood from the bone marrow, but she lost tons from it was draining into her stomach. She was beyond anemic.
I wanted to go see her. Of course, they wouldn't let me leave my room because I had no immune system. My next solution was to just move her bed into my room, but they wouldn't let me do that either. I hated it. She was saving my life. I wanted it to be as easy as possible for her to undergo, but instead it became a debacle. And she felt so awful. I mean- she had no blood!
She was released late that day (even though she shouldn’t have been, but she’s stubborn and demanded to be released) and she was on bed rest because she was so weak. I finally saw her in person a few days after she had been released and she looked pale and tired- and that was after she had somewhat recovered. She had horrible lower back pain because they went into her pelvis about 40 times (with their giant needles). Her throat and esophagus were raw from the tubes and she was exhausted.
So Mercedes- I'm so sorry you had to go through that. Even writing this it makes me cry. But thank you for saving my life. Thank you for everything that you have done and continue to do for me. I don't think I say that enough. And I love that I will always have a part of you with me.
And now something new. I'm going to let Mercedes describe her experience with what happened. I think every once in a while it will be good to get another person's view.
I
am so honored to be a part of this blog post! One thing I wanted to briefly
mention was that all the Dullum sisters were tested many years ago to see who
might be a good match for Genevieve in the event that she need any donations.
Well, I remember clearly the day we were tested: at the age of 12, I walked
right into the doctor’s office and declared that I didn’t need the test because
I knew I was a perfect match. And it turned out I was right! Genevieve and I
have been so close forever, (she is always trying to be just like me) and it
only seemed natural that I would be her donor. I remember being so excited
about the “harvest day,” or what our family had labeled “D Day,” (Donor Day)
because I was finally able to actually DO something tangible for Genevieve,
rather than bumbling along trying helplessly to accompany her on this journey.
It was funny being on the other side of the table for once, when I was in the
OR and they told me to start counting back from 100. I also remember that the IV
really hurt! This gave me more respect for what Gen has to go through all the
time. She has been getting IVs for most of her life, which was something I
hadn’t thought was that big of a deal, and then the first time I had to have
one placed it was so painful! Anyway, these were my last thoughts as I drifted
off into anesthetic bliss for a few hours.
After
the harvest, there were two things that stood out to me. The first was the look
on Dave and my dad’s faces when they saw me in the recovery room. They had that
expression when you know something’s up but no one wants to talk about it. I
immediately assumed it had something to do with Gen, but eventually it came out
that I just looked really, really pale. Dave later told me how worried they had
been, but that no one had wanted to say anything to me until I was recovering
well. I overall felt fine, other than being tired and a bit nauseous. I was
then moved to the inpatient unit. The second thing I remember was how
vulnerable I felt in a hospital gown. This was yet another way I finally got a
glimpse into what Gena’s life has been like. I felt so exposed and open and
embarrassed, when really I should have been focusing on rest and recovery.
I
hated this feeling, so I demanded to be discharged the same day as the
procedure, changing the original plan of being monitored overnight. They
finally relented, and despite being weak and very nauseous, I was released that
afternoon. The Percocet they gave me, (72 tabs! Who prescribes 72 tabs for a
minor procedure??) made me feel very sick and loopy, and I only took one before
I decided on Motrin and Tylenol for the rest of the weekend. Anyway, I also
remember talking with Gena via video chat, and being very disgusted by the bag
of blood hanging from her IV pole. For some reason, despite my medical
background and having watched bone marrow aspirations as a medical student, I
had envisioned my bone marrow being thick and of more substance, with important
cellular components floating in it (this makes no practical medical sense, but
that’s still how I imagined it). Well, as Gena said, it literally looked like a
big ol’ bag of blood. I was a bit disappointed, feeling that it did not do the
job justice.
The
hardest part of the harvest for me was not being able to see Gena for a few
days. Up until that point I had visited her every day in the hospital, and it
felt foreign not to see her. I was dying to know what was going on and how she
was feeling. I guess we’ll just have to wait til the next post to find out!
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