Sickness, Surgery and... Popcorn (part 1)
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Yeah, I know. It's been forever. On to the story of what's happened to me!

*WARNING - THIS PARAGRAPH CONTAINS TMI* (Too much information, over sharing, roughing the reader)
I've been having menstrual problems for a while now. Every time I had a little spotting during ovulation, I'd google around and read that it's totally normal for someone my age. Every time I had a period with lovely clumps of warm red jello sliming their way out of my cervix, I'd google and read that it's totally normal. I'm not one to completely trust even medical sites on the internet. So I'd meditate on my body; focus on my uterus, and find nothing wrong. Just heavy periods every 19-21 days.
I've been having periods every 19-21 days for a decade. Some times they'd last 4 days, sometimes a week. No biggie. I've never been anemic.

Then came November. I was (again) spotting during ovulation. I decided that no matter how "perfectly normal" this might be, I should get some tests done. That's what medical insurance is for, after all.
But it would have to wait until after my period. Can't do a pap smear during a period. It seemed to take forever to actually start menstruating. At least a week! I was truly thankful on Thanksgiving day when I finally started bleeding like a normal woman.

Except it wasn't normal. I was dropping clots the size of small pancakes. Not one or two, but dozens. And I bled for 15 days.
It was gross.
I smelled like oxidized copper.
Everything tasted metallic, and I was thirsty all the time.
I was so weak that I couldn't stand up in the shower. The steam made me feel sick.
I was reduced to sponge baths and washing my hair in the sink.

It was a miserable two weeks and a day. And yet, my body said it was just fine. No cancer, no weird ectopic magical pregnancy, no crazy hormone shifts. So when it finally stopped, I made a mental note to go see my doctor as soon as I had the strength to take a real shower.

Six days later, I started bleeding again. Made perfect sense. I get my periods every 19-21 days. 15 + 6 = 21. And I felt absolutely horrible. And frustrated! Dammit. I was on my period again. Can't get a pap smear! (Like a pap is the only test that can be done on a woman's reproductive organs. Duh)
Monday night, I was so weak and in so much pain, that I wondered how much dying hurt. And for the first time in my life I was afraid of death. Because the pain I felt combined with my weakness scared the crap out of me. I knew I wasn't dying. And I kind of understood, at last, that death usually involves being physically weak.
Tuesday morning, I called my doctor. I told them I'd take anybody who could see me. I was fine with a Physicians Assistant. I didn't care. I was bleeding, I was sick, and I needed it to be fixed. They could see me almost right away.
Great! I stuffed the last of my maxi pads in my purse and drove to the doctor.
Doctor's offices suck when you're truly unwell. So do emergency rooms. Both have uncomfortable seats and no way to lie down across them. So I sat upright and knitted. I even smiled and chatted with people who boggled at the 5 double point needles I was using to make a whatever it was. Really, I don't know what the hell I was making. Could have been the start of a mohair sock or the sleeve of a child's sweater. I just focused on knitting round and round and not letting my fear take control. I was afraid of more pain. I mean... worst case scenario, they give me a hysterectomy, right? Lots of women have those. I can live with that. It was the PAIN that I didn't want. So I knitted round and round and focused on staying calm.

A nurse called my name, weighed me, took me into a little room, checked my blood pressure and asked me questions. I explained about the 15 day period, the massive clumps of goo, and the funny taste in my mouth. She commented that I looked pale. I replied that I'm a redhead, I'm always pale, however; I was pale even for me. We both stared at my face in the mirror for a moment. Then she stabbed my finger with a little needle and took off with a dot of my blood. I marveled at the wonders of modern medicine - that one drop of blood was going to give them all the information they needed to make me stop bleeding. Sweet!

I'm making it sound like I was totally fine during this adventure. That's not true. I was weak and dizzy and my hands didn't really want to manage all those knitting needles. I felt queazy. I simply didn't see how letting any of those things overwhelm me would speed up the process of getting better. And I was certain that I was going to get better. My mind kept returning to this thought: Worst case scenario, I get a hysterectomy. I'll deal with that when my uterus is gone.

A few minutes later, the doctor came into the room wearing a look on her face that I hope you never see. She was very concerned and slightly frustrated, and a bit surprised, and there was some fear in there too. She had the face of a doctor who has to give bad news and has no idea how the patient will take it. I felt bad for her.

She told me that the drop of blood the nurse had run off with said my blood count was low. I was anemic. "Ah ha!" I thought. "So this is what anemia feels like!" I felt better already. But she still was wearing that face. Ok... it's more than just anemia. Best case, they give me a hormone shot - worst case, they take my innards. Let's see where I stood.

I have *no* idea what this means. It meant something to her though. My hemoglobin number was 7. That's very low. Low enough that I would need a blood transfusion.
Um, ok. Worse than a shot, waaaay better than a hysterectomy. And something that had never crossed my mind. A blood transfusion for a period? You've got to be kidding me!
She said I could go to the emergency room and get a transfusion, hormones to stop the bleeding, probably a D&C, and an ultrasound to see what's going on in there.
OR
I could go to the ER and get a blood transfusion and have the rest of the stuff done in a clinic the next day.

I said. "So. Either way, I'm getting a blood transfusion?"
She looked down at the printout of my blood test and said "Well, yes. I don't know what your normal hemoglobin count is, so I can't say for sure. And I do think you should get a transfusion as soon as possible. Preferably today."

My doctor's office is across the street from a hospital. It's a good hospital. My insurance likes the place to. She didn't once suggest I cross the street and go there. Instead, we discussed hospitals 20 miles away. I opted for Saint Anthony's. They're nice people. And competent. And the ER isn't usually crowded.
I thanked my doctor and left. Walking to the truck, I realized I'd left my cell phone at home. I sat in the truck and cried. blood transfusion
Then I wiped my eyes and drove home to call the hubby-man. I could have driven all the way to the hospital, but the hubby man would have been hurt that I didn't call him asap. Besides. I didn't want to go through a blood transfusion alone. I was really really scared.
Transfusions are for war wounds and terrorist victims and major surgeries. Not for an overly long period.
So I cried on an off the whole way home and scared the crap out of my husband when I called him in tears. "They said... (sniffle, hic) that I need (sob sob) a... (hic) a... (sniff,cry) ... blood transfusion! (waaaah!)
He was quiet, as if I had more to add to that "horror".
He thought it was going to be something BAD. Like a hysterectomy. Instead, I get to have a little blood. Isn't that why we all donate blood anyway?