At one point in time this was an occasionally (?) interesting blog about living and working in Korea. Now it's a running diary kept by a man whom God clearly wants dead.
Had another doctor's appointment. Took the old shuttle bus, but we don't have to talk about that again.
My appointment was for 9:50am. Now, I should explain the routine for my appointments. First thing I have to do is get blood drawn, so I go to the blood test area and give them some papers. Then I wait for a few minutes until my number is called, and they jab me with a needle and take my blood. Then, I have go to the hematology ward, where I sit with a bunch of old and dying Koreans and wait for my name to be called. Usually it's about a half hour wait.
Not today. Today I had to sit there for two effin hours. Twice during this wait I went to the counter with a "what the hell is going on" look on my face. The first time the girl just said a bunch of Korean to me and I turned around and sat back down. The next time I ventured a few Korean words of my own, asking when I was up and how much longer. She told me jogeum, or, "in a little bit".
Eventually, noon to be exact, my name gets called. (Interesting side note: when I was admitted to the hospital the first time they read my name wrong, and mistook my middle name as my last name. As a result all of these appointments are for some guy called Simeon Williams.) I go in to see the doctor and she asks how I feel. I tell her fine. Then she tells me my liver is pretty lousy. I tell her, well I've been a pretty lousy liver lately. Get it? A lousy liver? Like, I haven't been good at living lately, because I almost died? Okay, that exchange didn't actually happen.
She shows me the numbers, although I'm not sure exactly what they mean. For however this liver function test works, the number should be between 4 and 40 for a healthy person. Last week, when she was "worried" about it, my number was 76. Today? 536. Wonderful. Again, I don't know what those numbers are in regard to, but when you don't want something over 40, and you get a 536, well, I don't think that's good. But at the same time, at least I'm not being ambiguous in my illnesses. My body really isn't half-assing these things. My body says, "Oh, you're supposed to have 300,000 platelets, well I'm going down to a thousand! Liver function test shouldn't be over 40? Take all 536 of these!"
The doctor didn't think it was good either. She says we're gonna stop the medicine I'm on. No more steroids, which means that my platelets could/should be taking a nosedive any day now. However, and here is the best part, while the liver problem could be a side effect of the steroids, she actually thinks it's something completely unrelated. We've just sorta accidentally stumbled upon God's next scheme to take me out. So my liver is screwed, which probably isn't related to my other mysterious disease, but just to be safe we need to stop the treatment of my original disease, which should cause a relapse in which my body stops producing platelets again.
What all this means is that I'm headed for another extended hospital stay, to hopefully avoid liver failure while at the same time being able to receive intravenous treatment when my platelets eventually abandon me again. My doctor didn't actually want me to leave today, but I told her I had to work, so she gave me some pills. The "good" news here is that starting Wednesday, I have a 5-day weekend because of the lunar new year, which is one of the biggest holidays in Korea. As a result, I won't be missing work. I will, however, have to spend all or most of that vacation back in the hospital. Not the dreaded emergency ward, though I suppose I could swing by and say hello to my old pals.
I have to go back to the hospital tomorrow for an ultrasound on my liver and for them to run a bunch of tests or whatever. Should be a real blast. If the tests show what they expect them to show, then on Tuesday night or Wednesday morning it's back to the hospital for good.
If I ever again get a clean bill of health, I'll bet you I get hit by a bus later that day.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
change
It's been a month since I got sick, and besides a mysterious disease of unknown origin which causes my immune system to try to kill me, it's been the healthiest month of my life. I haven't smoked a cigarette or imbibed a drop of alcohol. I probably haven't gone that long with either or those in 8 years. For the past week I've been going to a gym, twice a day even. I run a couple miles in the morning, then after work I go back and lift some weights and bike for 20 minutes. I still have a big appetite, but I'm being smart about it. I buy fruit and vegetables so that I have something healthy to snack on. I've even decided to stop using semicolons. (I'm not sure what that last sentence means but it strikes me as funny, so it's staying in.)
I've changed. I keep my apartment spotless. I'm organized now. I put things back where they belong, I fold my laundry. I've started cooking. I chop up vegetables and boil potatoes. I've started using the rice cooker that came with my apartment.
I've never had my shit together as well as I have it together now. At least not for this long. Maybe in the past I'd string a few days together, I'd buy some vegetables, maybe a pepper and an onion, and make an omelette and feel like an adult. Then I'd forget about it and a month later I'd find a moldy old onion at the bottom on my fridge, and just leave it there.
I'm not sure where the cause of this change is. At first I thought it might be a side effect of the medicine, but I'm not so sure anymore. Realizing what I can't control has made me appreciate what I can.
I've changed. I keep my apartment spotless. I'm organized now. I put things back where they belong, I fold my laundry. I've started cooking. I chop up vegetables and boil potatoes. I've started using the rice cooker that came with my apartment.
I've never had my shit together as well as I have it together now. At least not for this long. Maybe in the past I'd string a few days together, I'd buy some vegetables, maybe a pepper and an onion, and make an omelette and feel like an adult. Then I'd forget about it and a month later I'd find a moldy old onion at the bottom on my fridge, and just leave it there.
I'm not sure where the cause of this change is. At first I thought it might be a side effect of the medicine, but I'm not so sure anymore. Realizing what I can't control has made me appreciate what I can.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
healthier
I went back to the hospital again today for an appointment. It was the first time I've done so on my own. Previously I've had a Korean go with me. But, today I put on my big-boy pants and did it on my own.
My appointment was for 9am. The hospital is just outside Gwangju and isn't accessible directly by bus. I had to take a 45 minute bus ride to a hospital in downtown Gwangju, then take a hospital shuttle bus from there to my hospital. All told it took about 90 minutes.
So, that's the prologue to the "Sim went to the Hospital" story.
The good news I heard today was that my marrow looks fine and definitely has no leukemia cells. Cross that one off. My platelets, which if you'll remember were once in the triple-digits, now sit strong at 279,000, thanks to the continued corticosteroid treatment.
About that steroid treatment though. Apparently today my blood showed some signs of liver damage. This is the frustrating part of a language barrier between a doctor and patient. She can convey that there is an issue with my liver, however I'm unable to determine if it is a problem yet, or if it's going to be, or how serious of a problem it is, or might become, or whatever. All I know is that it's something to keep an eye on now, and that she kept saying the word "worried" about it.
Because of the liver thing, I'm going on a new corticosteroid, the name of which I've forgotten. It's weaker than what I've been on, and will hopefully have reduced side effects. I've been hoping that pretty soon I'd be off meds altogether, but that dream was crushed today. Looks like for the next 3 to 6 months I'm gonna have to be on something. It seems the relapse rate for this disease is quite high, so the only way to prevent my body from trying to kill itself without telling me again is to take a dozen pills a day.
I told her about my recently voracious appetite. She laughed, but said to restrain myself as much as possible so that my blood sugar doesn't do anything crazy. I'm healthy enough to exercise, though. I'm going to join a gym. If I'm going to be eating like a fully grown human male for the first time in my life, and if I'm strictly forbidden from intaking alcohol and tobacco, I don't want to waste it. Just wait and see, this whole ordeal is gonna result in me being a brick shithouse. Well, maybe at least a normal sized human male.
Doctor wants to see me back in ten days. At least it's not twice a week anymore.
My appointment was for 9am. The hospital is just outside Gwangju and isn't accessible directly by bus. I had to take a 45 minute bus ride to a hospital in downtown Gwangju, then take a hospital shuttle bus from there to my hospital. All told it took about 90 minutes.
So, that's the prologue to the "Sim went to the Hospital" story.
The good news I heard today was that my marrow looks fine and definitely has no leukemia cells. Cross that one off. My platelets, which if you'll remember were once in the triple-digits, now sit strong at 279,000, thanks to the continued corticosteroid treatment.
About that steroid treatment though. Apparently today my blood showed some signs of liver damage. This is the frustrating part of a language barrier between a doctor and patient. She can convey that there is an issue with my liver, however I'm unable to determine if it is a problem yet, or if it's going to be, or how serious of a problem it is, or might become, or whatever. All I know is that it's something to keep an eye on now, and that she kept saying the word "worried" about it.
Because of the liver thing, I'm going on a new corticosteroid, the name of which I've forgotten. It's weaker than what I've been on, and will hopefully have reduced side effects. I've been hoping that pretty soon I'd be off meds altogether, but that dream was crushed today. Looks like for the next 3 to 6 months I'm gonna have to be on something. It seems the relapse rate for this disease is quite high, so the only way to prevent my body from trying to kill itself without telling me again is to take a dozen pills a day.
I told her about my recently voracious appetite. She laughed, but said to restrain myself as much as possible so that my blood sugar doesn't do anything crazy. I'm healthy enough to exercise, though. I'm going to join a gym. If I'm going to be eating like a fully grown human male for the first time in my life, and if I'm strictly forbidden from intaking alcohol and tobacco, I don't want to waste it. Just wait and see, this whole ordeal is gonna result in me being a brick shithouse. Well, maybe at least a normal sized human male.
Doctor wants to see me back in ten days. At least it's not twice a week anymore.
Friday, January 14, 2011
where we stand
It's been an interesting week. It's been a long week, too.
I haven't been doing much, just going to work, then going home. It's kind of the deal I struck with my doctor and my bosses. I agreed to take it as easy as possible, they agreed to let me work.
This time a week ago I thought I was on my way back to the States. Teaching English at an academy such as mine isn't the most stable job, nor are your employers the most loyal. Teachers are commodities in this system, and can be easily replaced. So, when my doctor agreed to let me leave the hospital on the condition that I not work for a month, I knew I'd have to start doing some persuading. Persuading soon devolved into pleading and begging, which has led to a trial period of sorts. For the next two or three weeks everyone keeps a close eye on me, makes sure I'm not bleeding all over the place, and I get to stay here. I make a couple hospital visits a week so the doctor can monitor what my blood is doing, and of course if anything major is found in my marrow biopsy, well it's curtains for my Korean contract.
Given my symptoms, the phrase "anything major" translates to leukemia. That's the one that keeps me up at night. It's also the one I'm most confused about, because I'm about 99% certain I remember a doctor telling me a few hours after they took my marrow that she saw no leukemia cells. But when I go for these check ups a different doctor tells me she's still poking around in the stuff and it'll take 2 weeks. Consistent bedside manner would be nice. Or maybe I dreamed being told there was no leukemia; my state of mind was pretty spotty there for a week or so.
But anyway, yeah, I thought I was good as gone, and I pretty much was. While I was stuck in the Emergency Ward I received texts from my coworker warning me I was going to be replaced. That was probably on my second or third day in the hospital, before I'd even exhausted the five sick days my contract provides. In fact, I found out the other day that I technically had been replaced, at least for a few hours. However, it all fell through at the last, last minute. My replacement backed out; perhaps it was all moving too fast for him. I should note that it wasn't every Korean associated with my school who demanded I instantly be fired because of my illness, rather it was just one guy, the guy with all the money. A couple others kinda stuck their necks on the line for me. I bought them flowers the other day.
I'm not sure what the word is for how that made me feel. I try not to take it personally, but the thought of this rich businessman willing to uproot my entire life, force me home on my own dollar, all while I'm slowly bleeding to death from the inside out not knowing what the hell is going on...that thought...persists. It doesn't motivate me one way or the other. It's like a mental purpura to go along with the physical one on my arms and legs, just something that's there now.
I feel well. I can thank the prednisone for that. I wasn't thrilled about going on it in the first place, but after seeing what it's done for me I'm a little afraid to go off it. And that's something to really be afraid of. I can't stay on it forever though, and they're already weaning me off it. Side effects so far have been minimal, just that I've been eating a ton. For a guy who weighed 120 pounds when this whole thing started, that's not the worst thing in the world. Honest to God though, I wouldn't be surprised if I've gained 10 pounds since I've been on the stuff. I've never eaten this much in my life.
My next appointment is for the 20th. Hopefully I'll know more then. Thanks to all of you who've contacted me, whether through here or email or facebook. It's been a big help.
I haven't been doing much, just going to work, then going home. It's kind of the deal I struck with my doctor and my bosses. I agreed to take it as easy as possible, they agreed to let me work.
This time a week ago I thought I was on my way back to the States. Teaching English at an academy such as mine isn't the most stable job, nor are your employers the most loyal. Teachers are commodities in this system, and can be easily replaced. So, when my doctor agreed to let me leave the hospital on the condition that I not work for a month, I knew I'd have to start doing some persuading. Persuading soon devolved into pleading and begging, which has led to a trial period of sorts. For the next two or three weeks everyone keeps a close eye on me, makes sure I'm not bleeding all over the place, and I get to stay here. I make a couple hospital visits a week so the doctor can monitor what my blood is doing, and of course if anything major is found in my marrow biopsy, well it's curtains for my Korean contract.
Given my symptoms, the phrase "anything major" translates to leukemia. That's the one that keeps me up at night. It's also the one I'm most confused about, because I'm about 99% certain I remember a doctor telling me a few hours after they took my marrow that she saw no leukemia cells. But when I go for these check ups a different doctor tells me she's still poking around in the stuff and it'll take 2 weeks. Consistent bedside manner would be nice. Or maybe I dreamed being told there was no leukemia; my state of mind was pretty spotty there for a week or so.
But anyway, yeah, I thought I was good as gone, and I pretty much was. While I was stuck in the Emergency Ward I received texts from my coworker warning me I was going to be replaced. That was probably on my second or third day in the hospital, before I'd even exhausted the five sick days my contract provides. In fact, I found out the other day that I technically had been replaced, at least for a few hours. However, it all fell through at the last, last minute. My replacement backed out; perhaps it was all moving too fast for him. I should note that it wasn't every Korean associated with my school who demanded I instantly be fired because of my illness, rather it was just one guy, the guy with all the money. A couple others kinda stuck their necks on the line for me. I bought them flowers the other day.
I'm not sure what the word is for how that made me feel. I try not to take it personally, but the thought of this rich businessman willing to uproot my entire life, force me home on my own dollar, all while I'm slowly bleeding to death from the inside out not knowing what the hell is going on...that thought...persists. It doesn't motivate me one way or the other. It's like a mental purpura to go along with the physical one on my arms and legs, just something that's there now.
I feel well. I can thank the prednisone for that. I wasn't thrilled about going on it in the first place, but after seeing what it's done for me I'm a little afraid to go off it. And that's something to really be afraid of. I can't stay on it forever though, and they're already weaning me off it. Side effects so far have been minimal, just that I've been eating a ton. For a guy who weighed 120 pounds when this whole thing started, that's not the worst thing in the world. Honest to God though, I wouldn't be surprised if I've gained 10 pounds since I've been on the stuff. I've never eaten this much in my life.
My next appointment is for the 20th. Hopefully I'll know more then. Thanks to all of you who've contacted me, whether through here or email or facebook. It's been a big help.
Friday, January 7, 2011
itp
Well let's not leave you all on the edge of your seats here. Let's finish the story. I should let you know now that I'm back at my apartment now. These are just some transcriptions of what I went through, and some thoughts I had about it at the time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We arrive at the new hospital and I'm placed in a ward with a few other people who look and sound worse than I do. I remember two old Korean guys passed out and laboring to breathe, and an emaciated woman who just moaned and sobbed endlessly. A couple of new doctors came in and asked me all the same questions that the first doctors had asked me. They told me my platelets were dangerously low, but that I didn't have HIV, so that was nice to hear. Then one of them made mention of all the tests and bloodwork I'd soon be enduring, as well as the possibility of a month-long hospital stay. That was worrying.
They then took me up to my new ward, called the Emergency Ward. It's me and 10 or so elderly Koreans who stare at me suspiciously. Meanwhile, I lie in bed and have to listen to them fart, cough, wheeze, and snore. They combine to produce an unending death rattle that farts. And they all have cell phones which go off at top volume, and which they don't know how to work, so end up spewing the most obnoxious ring tones for minutes at a time.
I manage to leave the ward for short periods throughout the day, but I'm confined here for the most part. One day I got to leave to take some more X-rays.
On another note: I thought I'd felt pain before, but I was wrong. You want to know what pain is? Pain is a bone marrow extraction procedure. Yeah, I got to have one of those as an added bonus to this chapter of my life which keeps getting better and better. They took the marrow from the back of my hip for use in a biopsy. I'd never felt anything close to this before, to the point where I think there should be a new word for it. But it also made me appreciate pain's purpose. If pain is my body's way of letting me know something is wrong, my body was doing a hell of a job of it. It just didn't stop. Prolonged, intense pain. To call it throbbing would be misleading, because throbbing implies a sort of rhythm, up and down. This was only up, only the intense part. After pulling out what he could from my back left hip (I turned to see him using a chisel at one point) the doctor said the words I least wanted to hear- "Now time for the right side." I pleaded for him not to, but to no avail.
Sometimes in recounting a story of great pain, someone will say something like, "Man I called him every name in the book!" or something like that. But I'll tell you what, I sure as hell didn't. I pretty much only used one word the entire time. I just repeatedly screamed "Fuck!" for about 20 minutes straight. Actually, at one point I recited through clenched teeth the lyrics to A Wolf at the Door by Radiohead which I guess popped into my head for some reason.
I should also mention that they didn't take me to a special room for this procedure. They did it right on my bed in the Emergency Ward. So there were a dozen or so old Koreans who had front row seats to my misery. I wondered what they thought about that, seeing a young white guy get the most out of the word "fuck" for the better part of half an hour. I like to think they appreciated getting to see it used in an appropriate context.
By the end of it I was left a sweating, shaking mess. "The pain was severe?" queried the doctor. "Fuck," I sighed. I had to spend the next 6 hours lying prone, the pain still enduring, but much more subdued.
I don't belong here. I'm surrounded by the soon to be dead. These people are at their ends. I'm 27, supposed to be full of life. I have to escape. Must get healthy.
I've had an IV in my arm for 4 days now. The whole while it's been pumping stuff into me. This and that, my cherished platelets that I bid farewell and good luck to (platelet infusions are orange, by the way. Look like a bag of orange juice.) It pumps cortisone and antihistamines, glucose and God knows what else. I hate it. I hate being tethered to this walking tray I have to wheel around with me everywhere. I make entrances everywhere I go and people stare at the foreigner and wonder what's wrong with him. They probably think it's nothing major. To them I say- walk a mile in my shoes, tethered to this fucking IV drip!
The shower I got today was wondrous, and much needed. I don't think I'd had a proper one since Sunday. I imagined myself washing these awful red spots off my arms and legs. I've come to despise these spots, they're a stigma that remind me of the fear and uncertainty of this situation. If i could burn or tear them out and be done with them I would. Just go away. Why are you here and what do you mean?
There is an end to this, isn't there? They'll find out that it was some allergy or infection and just give me some meds. I'll be teaching on Monday morning. That's the only way out of this, the only logical conclusion.
I can count 12 puncture holes in my left arm alone. Holes where blood has been drawn.
You know, they should have a TV here. My distractions are: this pen and pad of paper, an iPod, and Steppenwolf by Herman Hesse. When you're being consumed by doubt and concern, those 3 don't amount to much.
I've had some tough nights in Korea. One's that stick out are that first one, with all its anxiety. Then there was the night I learned Dad was gone, with all its loneliness. But this night right now is up there. I'm scared, lonely, worried, and a million other things, AND THIS FUCKING GUY BEHIND ME WON'T STOP SNORING. Something needs to happen tomorrow, or I'm gonna lose it.
I wandered around the hospital today, determined to charge my phone. I set off in my hospital issued pajamas and tethered to my IV tray. I asked several people, some who pointed me in other directions, some just refused me. I was in a Mini-Mart for a while. Eventually the 1st floor Info desk took me to a Vitamin Shop that charged me a buck for a 40 minute charge. I got lost trying to find my way back to the Emergency Ward. Turns out it's on the 3rd floor, not the 5th.
Doctor says I could be out of here on Saturday. They're gonna put me on prednisone. My old pal prednisone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That's where the pad and pen notes stop. To fill you in, I've been diagnosed so far with ITP, Idiopathic Thrombocytopenic Purpura. Let's break that down, shall we:
Idiopathic- I don't know why but
Thrombocytopenic- you got no platelets
Purpura- and you got tiny bruises all over you
They sent me home a few hours ago. They gave me some steroids and some instructions like, eat good food, or wear a hygienic mask in public, and, don't bump into stuff or you'll start bleeding all over the place. Oh, and no booze or smokes for the foreseeable future. I have to go back on Monday for another round of IV drip treatment, and for them to see where my platelet levels are at. So, no work until Tuesday. I'm just thrilled to be out of that ward. Though I have to wonder how I'll ever be able to sleep tonight without the delicate ambiance of a 75 year old man's farts to send me off into dreamland.
So this is pretty disjointed post. I could've probably edited it all together much better and for the sake of clarity, but take what you can get. I'll keep you updated.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We arrive at the new hospital and I'm placed in a ward with a few other people who look and sound worse than I do. I remember two old Korean guys passed out and laboring to breathe, and an emaciated woman who just moaned and sobbed endlessly. A couple of new doctors came in and asked me all the same questions that the first doctors had asked me. They told me my platelets were dangerously low, but that I didn't have HIV, so that was nice to hear. Then one of them made mention of all the tests and bloodwork I'd soon be enduring, as well as the possibility of a month-long hospital stay. That was worrying.
They then took me up to my new ward, called the Emergency Ward. It's me and 10 or so elderly Koreans who stare at me suspiciously. Meanwhile, I lie in bed and have to listen to them fart, cough, wheeze, and snore. They combine to produce an unending death rattle that farts. And they all have cell phones which go off at top volume, and which they don't know how to work, so end up spewing the most obnoxious ring tones for minutes at a time.
I manage to leave the ward for short periods throughout the day, but I'm confined here for the most part. One day I got to leave to take some more X-rays.
On another note: I thought I'd felt pain before, but I was wrong. You want to know what pain is? Pain is a bone marrow extraction procedure. Yeah, I got to have one of those as an added bonus to this chapter of my life which keeps getting better and better. They took the marrow from the back of my hip for use in a biopsy. I'd never felt anything close to this before, to the point where I think there should be a new word for it. But it also made me appreciate pain's purpose. If pain is my body's way of letting me know something is wrong, my body was doing a hell of a job of it. It just didn't stop. Prolonged, intense pain. To call it throbbing would be misleading, because throbbing implies a sort of rhythm, up and down. This was only up, only the intense part. After pulling out what he could from my back left hip (I turned to see him using a chisel at one point) the doctor said the words I least wanted to hear- "Now time for the right side." I pleaded for him not to, but to no avail.
Sometimes in recounting a story of great pain, someone will say something like, "Man I called him every name in the book!" or something like that. But I'll tell you what, I sure as hell didn't. I pretty much only used one word the entire time. I just repeatedly screamed "Fuck!" for about 20 minutes straight. Actually, at one point I recited through clenched teeth the lyrics to A Wolf at the Door by Radiohead which I guess popped into my head for some reason.
I should also mention that they didn't take me to a special room for this procedure. They did it right on my bed in the Emergency Ward. So there were a dozen or so old Koreans who had front row seats to my misery. I wondered what they thought about that, seeing a young white guy get the most out of the word "fuck" for the better part of half an hour. I like to think they appreciated getting to see it used in an appropriate context.
By the end of it I was left a sweating, shaking mess. "The pain was severe?" queried the doctor. "Fuck," I sighed. I had to spend the next 6 hours lying prone, the pain still enduring, but much more subdued.
I don't belong here. I'm surrounded by the soon to be dead. These people are at their ends. I'm 27, supposed to be full of life. I have to escape. Must get healthy.
I've had an IV in my arm for 4 days now. The whole while it's been pumping stuff into me. This and that, my cherished platelets that I bid farewell and good luck to (platelet infusions are orange, by the way. Look like a bag of orange juice.) It pumps cortisone and antihistamines, glucose and God knows what else. I hate it. I hate being tethered to this walking tray I have to wheel around with me everywhere. I make entrances everywhere I go and people stare at the foreigner and wonder what's wrong with him. They probably think it's nothing major. To them I say- walk a mile in my shoes, tethered to this fucking IV drip!
The shower I got today was wondrous, and much needed. I don't think I'd had a proper one since Sunday. I imagined myself washing these awful red spots off my arms and legs. I've come to despise these spots, they're a stigma that remind me of the fear and uncertainty of this situation. If i could burn or tear them out and be done with them I would. Just go away. Why are you here and what do you mean?
There is an end to this, isn't there? They'll find out that it was some allergy or infection and just give me some meds. I'll be teaching on Monday morning. That's the only way out of this, the only logical conclusion.
I can count 12 puncture holes in my left arm alone. Holes where blood has been drawn.
You know, they should have a TV here. My distractions are: this pen and pad of paper, an iPod, and Steppenwolf by Herman Hesse. When you're being consumed by doubt and concern, those 3 don't amount to much.
I've had some tough nights in Korea. One's that stick out are that first one, with all its anxiety. Then there was the night I learned Dad was gone, with all its loneliness. But this night right now is up there. I'm scared, lonely, worried, and a million other things, AND THIS FUCKING GUY BEHIND ME WON'T STOP SNORING. Something needs to happen tomorrow, or I'm gonna lose it.
I wandered around the hospital today, determined to charge my phone. I set off in my hospital issued pajamas and tethered to my IV tray. I asked several people, some who pointed me in other directions, some just refused me. I was in a Mini-Mart for a while. Eventually the 1st floor Info desk took me to a Vitamin Shop that charged me a buck for a 40 minute charge. I got lost trying to find my way back to the Emergency Ward. Turns out it's on the 3rd floor, not the 5th.
Doctor says I could be out of here on Saturday. They're gonna put me on prednisone. My old pal prednisone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That's where the pad and pen notes stop. To fill you in, I've been diagnosed so far with ITP, Idiopathic Thrombocytopenic Purpura. Let's break that down, shall we:
Idiopathic- I don't know why but
Thrombocytopenic- you got no platelets
Purpura- and you got tiny bruises all over you
They sent me home a few hours ago. They gave me some steroids and some instructions like, eat good food, or wear a hygienic mask in public, and, don't bump into stuff or you'll start bleeding all over the place. Oh, and no booze or smokes for the foreseeable future. I have to go back on Monday for another round of IV drip treatment, and for them to see where my platelet levels are at. So, no work until Tuesday. I'm just thrilled to be out of that ward. Though I have to wonder how I'll ever be able to sleep tonight without the delicate ambiance of a 75 year old man's farts to send me off into dreamland.
So this is pretty disjointed post. I could've probably edited it all together much better and for the sake of clarity, but take what you can get. I'll keep you updated.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
platelets
Something has gone wrong. I'm in a hospital a little outside Gwangju. I've been here since Sunday night. How did I get here?
It started on my last night in China. I stayed in our room despite a party downstairs. I'd decided on not drinking and only had a few bites to eat. A little later I felt a couple of bumps inside my left cheek. I looked in the mirror to see two 2mm blood blisters. It freaked me out because I'd never seen anything like that before, but figured I must have bitten my cheek, and so went to bed.
A few hours later I woke up and the two blisters had morphed into one massive chunk that took up half the inside of my cheek. I now noticed other blisters had sprung up on my tongue and lips. I was now paranoid. Some of them were even bleeding, so I crammed my mouth full of toilet paper and tried for more sleep.
The next morning I took out lump after lump of blood soaked tissue from my mouth and found a morbid sight. Mouth, tongue and lips full of tiny dark blisters, plus the behemoth on my left cheek that continued to bleed. It was around this time I noticed the red spots popping up on my arms and legs. I needed a doctor.
However, I wouldn't be in Gwangju for another 13 hours. So, I had to deal with it. "Dealing with it" turned out to mean walking around all day spitting out mouthfuls of blood and jamming my mouth full of tissue. That's what I did while we walked around a frigid Qingdao beach. That's what I did for the 45 minute taxi ride to the airport. That's what I did for the hour plane ride to Seoul and 4.5 hour bus ride to Gwangju.
My friend, Adam, had been telling me to see a doctor as soon as we arrived. I was more keen on sleeping first and going early the next morning. After going to the bathroom at the bus station I adopted his opinion.
I pissed blood. I don't mean I noticed a streak of red in my piss, I mean I only pissed blood. Lots of it. Thick, dark red blood pouring out of me. I've never been so scared. It was so odd and obviously not right that it convinced me I was dreaming. I was sure I was dreaming. I mean, I live in Korea? I just got back from China? I'm pissing insane amounts of blood and have a silver dollar sized blister in my mouth? C'mon Sim, wake up!
The hospital was now clearly my next stop. A taxi took me to one nearby, and after pausing to piss another pint of blood I spoke to reception and began to notice a pain in my gut. I saw a doctor quickly and when he looked in my mouth he gasped. "Not good," I thought. Nobody spoke very much English, so it was hard for me to convey what was wrong with me other than the blisters and red spots on my arms and legs. Part of the trouble was that in Korean the word for "blood" is "pee" and I don't know the word for urine. So in saying, "There is pee in my pee," I was perhaps only baffling them further.
At first it seemed they wanted to get rid of me quickly. They had a dentist poke around my mouth who claimed she had stopped the bleeding (a claim I soon disproved). She told me the problem was "mucus" and gave me directions to an oral health clinic.
At this point I think they were about done with me, but I persisted because of the whole blood-piss thing. Eventually they had me type into a computer what my symptoms were. When they got to "blood in urine" things got serious. For the next 5 hours I alternated between having tests/xrays done, and sleeping on a gurney in a large room of sick Koreans. They drew blood from me 5 times in 4 hours and put me on an IV drip.
In time they figured why I had blood spots all over my mouth and body, why I was pissing blood- spontaneous bleeding due to a low platelet level in my blood. A quick rundown of platelets is in order: there are 3 kinds of blood cells- red for moving oxygen, white for killing bad things, and platelets for clotting wounds and stopping bleeding. Their diagnosis made sense to me. Certainly explained why my mouth had been leaking blood for 24 hours.
The doc says, "Your platelet count is 3,000." I think to myself, "Okay, 3,000. Normal is probably 5 or 7,000. Surely nothing over 10,000--". "A normal count is between 130,000 and 450,000. You are severe."
I was instantly terrified. I had him write it down just to make sure he hadn't pronounced the numbers wrong in English. But no, my platelet level was critically low. He explained that my biggest worry now was brain and internal bleeding- and for the first time in my life I had to say these words in total seriousness: "Doctor, am I going to die?"
He said no, but that they had to move me to another hospital, one with a hematology clinic. I got a ride in an ambulance, though I was mainly out of it by this point. Upon arrival at the new hospital my platelets were under 1,000.
That's how I got here. My condition has improved, but I'm gonna pick this story up another time because I've typed this whole thing using my iPod. My iPod automatically capitalizes the P in iPod. That's kinda creepy. Anyway, I'll leave you for now with this, a brief poem I composed in honor of my platelets. I call it "Ode to My Platelets":
Unknown soldiers of my body.
All these years have been there to clot me.
And who said thank you? Not me.
Platelets, platelets don't ignore me,
Return again and restore me.
Had I known of you before now
Perhaps appreciation could've been shown somehow.
How's no bumps or scrapes for a week sound?
Platelets, platelets don't ignore me,
Return again and restore me.
Quite a balance, these bodies we're given
That must be run with such precision
Which when in error feel like a prison.
Platelets, platelets don't ignore me,
Return again and restore me.
I look into my weary eyes
And see that all which lives, dies
Whether from disease or phlebotomize.
Platelets, platelets don't ignore me,
Return again and restore me.
I was never one for biology,
But didn't live so foolishly
As to not know the importance of what I cannot see.
Platelets, platelets don't ignore me,
Return again and restore me.
I'm sending up my last flare.
God or platelets if you want or care:
There's a life here for you to spare.
Platelets, platelets don't ignore me,
Return again and restore me.
It started on my last night in China. I stayed in our room despite a party downstairs. I'd decided on not drinking and only had a few bites to eat. A little later I felt a couple of bumps inside my left cheek. I looked in the mirror to see two 2mm blood blisters. It freaked me out because I'd never seen anything like that before, but figured I must have bitten my cheek, and so went to bed.
A few hours later I woke up and the two blisters had morphed into one massive chunk that took up half the inside of my cheek. I now noticed other blisters had sprung up on my tongue and lips. I was now paranoid. Some of them were even bleeding, so I crammed my mouth full of toilet paper and tried for more sleep.
The next morning I took out lump after lump of blood soaked tissue from my mouth and found a morbid sight. Mouth, tongue and lips full of tiny dark blisters, plus the behemoth on my left cheek that continued to bleed. It was around this time I noticed the red spots popping up on my arms and legs. I needed a doctor.
However, I wouldn't be in Gwangju for another 13 hours. So, I had to deal with it. "Dealing with it" turned out to mean walking around all day spitting out mouthfuls of blood and jamming my mouth full of tissue. That's what I did while we walked around a frigid Qingdao beach. That's what I did for the 45 minute taxi ride to the airport. That's what I did for the hour plane ride to Seoul and 4.5 hour bus ride to Gwangju.
My friend, Adam, had been telling me to see a doctor as soon as we arrived. I was more keen on sleeping first and going early the next morning. After going to the bathroom at the bus station I adopted his opinion.
I pissed blood. I don't mean I noticed a streak of red in my piss, I mean I only pissed blood. Lots of it. Thick, dark red blood pouring out of me. I've never been so scared. It was so odd and obviously not right that it convinced me I was dreaming. I was sure I was dreaming. I mean, I live in Korea? I just got back from China? I'm pissing insane amounts of blood and have a silver dollar sized blister in my mouth? C'mon Sim, wake up!
The hospital was now clearly my next stop. A taxi took me to one nearby, and after pausing to piss another pint of blood I spoke to reception and began to notice a pain in my gut. I saw a doctor quickly and when he looked in my mouth he gasped. "Not good," I thought. Nobody spoke very much English, so it was hard for me to convey what was wrong with me other than the blisters and red spots on my arms and legs. Part of the trouble was that in Korean the word for "blood" is "pee" and I don't know the word for urine. So in saying, "There is pee in my pee," I was perhaps only baffling them further.
At first it seemed they wanted to get rid of me quickly. They had a dentist poke around my mouth who claimed she had stopped the bleeding (a claim I soon disproved). She told me the problem was "mucus" and gave me directions to an oral health clinic.
At this point I think they were about done with me, but I persisted because of the whole blood-piss thing. Eventually they had me type into a computer what my symptoms were. When they got to "blood in urine" things got serious. For the next 5 hours I alternated between having tests/xrays done, and sleeping on a gurney in a large room of sick Koreans. They drew blood from me 5 times in 4 hours and put me on an IV drip.
In time they figured why I had blood spots all over my mouth and body, why I was pissing blood- spontaneous bleeding due to a low platelet level in my blood. A quick rundown of platelets is in order: there are 3 kinds of blood cells- red for moving oxygen, white for killing bad things, and platelets for clotting wounds and stopping bleeding. Their diagnosis made sense to me. Certainly explained why my mouth had been leaking blood for 24 hours.
The doc says, "Your platelet count is 3,000." I think to myself, "Okay, 3,000. Normal is probably 5 or 7,000. Surely nothing over 10,000--". "A normal count is between 130,000 and 450,000. You are severe."
I was instantly terrified. I had him write it down just to make sure he hadn't pronounced the numbers wrong in English. But no, my platelet level was critically low. He explained that my biggest worry now was brain and internal bleeding- and for the first time in my life I had to say these words in total seriousness: "Doctor, am I going to die?"
He said no, but that they had to move me to another hospital, one with a hematology clinic. I got a ride in an ambulance, though I was mainly out of it by this point. Upon arrival at the new hospital my platelets were under 1,000.
That's how I got here. My condition has improved, but I'm gonna pick this story up another time because I've typed this whole thing using my iPod. My iPod automatically capitalizes the P in iPod. That's kinda creepy. Anyway, I'll leave you for now with this, a brief poem I composed in honor of my platelets. I call it "Ode to My Platelets":
Unknown soldiers of my body.
All these years have been there to clot me.
And who said thank you? Not me.
Platelets, platelets don't ignore me,
Return again and restore me.
Had I known of you before now
Perhaps appreciation could've been shown somehow.
How's no bumps or scrapes for a week sound?
Platelets, platelets don't ignore me,
Return again and restore me.
Quite a balance, these bodies we're given
That must be run with such precision
Which when in error feel like a prison.
Platelets, platelets don't ignore me,
Return again and restore me.
I look into my weary eyes
And see that all which lives, dies
Whether from disease or phlebotomize.
Platelets, platelets don't ignore me,
Return again and restore me.
I was never one for biology,
But didn't live so foolishly
As to not know the importance of what I cannot see.
Platelets, platelets don't ignore me,
Return again and restore me.
I'm sending up my last flare.
God or platelets if you want or care:
There's a life here for you to spare.
Platelets, platelets don't ignore me,
Return again and restore me.
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