It all started yesterday. I went and had a physical with our new doctor. Nice guy. Really liked him. Part of that of course was to stick sharp, pointed objects into my body and remove some of the fluid that normally should remain inside. This was duly packaged in little glass cylinders and shipped off to God knows where for them to do God knows what with.
Now, keep in mind during the rest of this missive that we've just spent the entire week having the complete plumbing system in the house replaced. Add to that the fact that the plumber fell through the ceiling of my closet on Friday morning and my DW notified me of this exactly at the moment the physician was performing the most intimate part of his examination.
Stress levels are abnormally high.
So, the doctor says they'll have the results of my blood work next week and I can call to get them. And with that, I'm out of the office to scurry home to see how much damage has resulted from a rather hefty plumber doing a swan dive through my closet ceiling. As it turns out, the damage isn't that bad although all my clothes are piled in a heap on the floor and covered with fluffy little pink bits of insulation. Likewise, our bed looks rather like a pink refugee from a cotton ball factory.
Ah well, so it goes.
The plumber is fine and they assure us they'll have this repaired and cleaned up to our satisfaction by the afternoon.
Finally, yesterday eventing, my DW and I get to relax. The plumbing job is complete, the plumbers are gone, my closet has been repaired and I've picked up and vacuumed my entire wardrobe and hung it back in my freshly repaired closet. A few adult beverages to help us relax and a quiet evening at home. Nothing better.
This morning, before I've had coffee, nice guy that I am, I offered to my DW that i would go out and pick us up a nice bit of morning breakfast and get gas for her car since she had a baby shower to go to this afternoon. While I'm driving down the street, my cell phone rings and I thought about letting it roll to voice mail since I don't like to talk and drive. But, in case it's my DW, I go ahead and answer it. A voice on the other end says "Hello, Mr. G, this is Dr. Phlabob (not his real name). I need you to go immediately to the emergency room. I've called them and told them to expect you."
Car swerves all over road.
Says I, "howcome?" New Dr. replies that my blood work has come back it seems that there's some irregularities. Specifically, my white count is way, way, way too low. Normal is supposedly between 4.0 and 11.0. Mine was down about 1.3. So, I'm to go to the emergency room immediately where they'll run the tests again.
If it's still down, I'll be admitted to the hospital.
Of course, before he had called my cell phone, he had called my house. My DW had answered and when she found out who it was, asked if anything was wrong. Due to the silly privacy laws, he simply told her "No. He just needed to talk with me about some test results". This of course, sent her into a complete panic. So, no sooner had I hung up from talking to the Dr., my phone rang again and this time, it's my DW. Explained to her the situation and that I was on my way home to pick her up.
Which brings me back to the start of this story. No coffee, no breakfast and a trip to the Emergency room. They re-ran my blood work and found that my white count was coming back up. Now it was 2.7. Better. But still not right. But good enough for me to go home. So around noon, I'm released from the hospital (aka prison). Still no coffee or food but at least I'm free again. But on Monday, it's back to my Doctor's office for more sharp, pointed objects inserted into my body and once again, take out some of that which is better left inside. They've sent me home with a current diagnosis of Leukopenia. The dictionary tells me this about it; "a reduction in the number of white cells in the blood, typical of various diseases.".
Specific. Ain't it?
What a fun way to star the day.
Tom (... of the down, then up white count.)