Me Vs Alien Invaders

Back in the hospital again.

Luckily, I found that channel that is playing "The Mother of All House Marathons" and Luis had gone home to prepare his exams for tomorrow so I can watch it without feeling like a I am putting my husband through torture.

So why am I here when I was feeling so good?

Low white blood cell count + fever + cough = a Saturday Trip to the Emergency Room. I figured Saturday night in an emergency room was going to be most entertaining, but it was quite plain vanilla. Luis saw two kids busted up from a fight, but all I saw was very large Texans sitting around looking miserable.

This morning the doctor came in and told me that my red blood cell counts were so low I needed a transfusion, so they have taken blood to type and match so I can get some fresh battery juice (two units, each unit taking 3-4 hours, for those interested in the details).

I have AB Negative blood. So does Luis. Which is pretty cool, considering 1 in 167 people have this blood type. That is .07% of the population has it. This doesn't mean that it is hard for me to match however, I am the universal receiver of all negative blood types, as I can take A-, B-, O-, and AB-.

Unfortunately, my problems won't be solved with just some antibiotics and some vampire food. There is something going on with my liver.

The liver is the organ that breaks down (metabolizes) most of the chemotherapy drugs that I get. Unfortunately, some drugs can cause liver damage. As the doctor said, something with my liver is "off." Supposedly, the damage is temporary, and I read the liver recovers a few weeks after the drug is stopped.

Key word is "stopped."

I don't want to stop my chemo. There are other drugs of course, but I don't want to stop anything! It is like every time we are looking at the possibility of something positive, a new hope, there is one more fricking challenge thrown in my tracks.

Did you know that since my diagnosis I have not had one bit of "good" news? Yes, once you have been diagnosed with cancer, news that is "not-so-bad" becomes "good." And every test they run, every surgery, every biopsy, the news gets worse and worse. Can someone up there just cut me some slack for a bit?

Breath, Dana. It isn't so bad. Things could be much worse. Much much worse.

I just feel like this is fricking Iraq, and I am George Bush, thinking this is going to be done and clean and over with so fast and then there are all these complications that my small itty bitty mind can barely comprehend. And all I can do is keep on smiling and telling the myself and who ever will listen to me that this is all going to be okay in the end (history will determine if my actions were justified).

The good thing about being stupid is that it allows you to be a full fledged optimist because you really believe that everything is going to be all right. Optimists don't have to look at yourself in the mirror every morning and convince yourself to be an optimist just one more day. For yourself and everyone else.

And as I wrote someone in a message this morning, life is measured by relativity. You gotta be starving to really enjoy a feast. You got to be dealt a shit hand every once in a while to know how good your previous hand was (or how good your next hand could be). You have to be sad and depressed to really know what it is like to be happy and carefree. You have to be at war to fully enjoy the calm of peace. And the longer the war the sweeter the peace.

Be dumb (like W), don't over think, Dana, and focus on the sweet peace. Where is my unit of blood?