Suleika Jaouad stated that to be a patient is to relinquish control. At this moment, I feel the same. Maybe I was naive, but I thought I could stay in control, but my body is losing the battle. Yes, of course, one loses your body to medical clinicians, treatment strategies, and physical breakdowns. However, my latest battle was humiliating: blood. Blood everywhere. And I mean a lot of it.
Last night, I traveled back from Tucson. The plane ride was relatively uneventful. No delays. The weather was fantastic. The only passenger screaming was a baby in the back of the plane. I rode first class, and no passenger attempted to open a door. However, what typically starts out well can go horribly wrong with little warning.
Before leaving for the airport, I felt the need to use the bathroom. Prior to flushing, I noticed some bright red blood [usually an indication of hemorrhoid(s)]. As someone working in the health field, hemorrhoids are not a big deal. I cleaned, and off I went. Upon arriving home, all hell broke loose.
Upon feeling the urge to reuse the toilet, I got to the bathroom, and all hell broke loose. It was as though a damn broke. Blood poured from me. After the initial surge, I felt a rising panic as the flow showed no signs of abating. Each passing minute felt like an eternity as I grappled with the overwhelming fear of uncontrollable bleeding. Despite my efforts to stem the flow, the relentless crimson tide persisted, leaving me drained and helpless. Time seemed to blur as I struggled to maintain composure, praying for the bleeding to cease its assault on my body. The relentless loss of blood cast a shadow of uncertainty over me, highlighting the severity of my condition and the precariousness of my health.
Blood dripped down my legs. The more I cleaned, the more I smeared. The more that smeared. The more blood smeared, the more it stuck. On a technical basis, the primary reason for blood’s stickiness is its cellular and protein composition, particularly the presence of red blood cells (erythrocytes), white blood cells (leukocytes), platelets (thrombocytes), and plasma proteins like fibrinogen. When blood comes into contact with air or damaged tissue, a cascade of biochemical reactions forms a blood clot, essentially a mesh-like structure made of fibrin strands. Platelets aggregate at the site of injury and release clotting factors, triggering the conversion of fibrinogen to fibrin. This fibrin network traps blood cells and platelets, forming a clot that stops bleeding. My blood stuck everywhere.
A forty minute shower, made me feel better. Another 30 minutes cleaing blood droplets, the bathroom appeared as nothing occured. I feel asleep. I awoke during the night thought for a moment, I need to get my s*** together.
Getting my s*** together has been a personal struggle due to a year’s worth of fatigue and brain fog due to 2022 COVID-19. Every time this happens, I keep telling myself I have to get it together. The feeling of being light-headed and experiencing unclear thinking in Light Chain Depostion Disease (LCDD) may be attributed to Renal Dysfunction with LCDD leads to impaired kidney function and anemia, whether directly through kidney damage or indirectly due to the loss of blood proteins or peripheral neuropathy, which is a common neurological complication of LCDD. These symptoms can contribute to feelings of being light-handed and unclear thinking. However, I keep telling myself that tomorrow will be the day when I finally get it together. Each morning, I awake lost as ever, walking like a zombie throughout the day.
Nowadays, the business world feels unwelcoming, as though I’ve become a burden or taking up space. Business life during COVID had a purpose. Just like other clinical personnel, I woke up, put on masks and gloves, washed my hands a thousand times, and headed to work. I sacrificed my body for the greater good. I endured. Aches, pains, and fatigue were pushed to the bowls of my inner body. I was the guy everyone counted on. I pushed through the pain and silently paid the price. I became mentally and physically exhausted from countless projects, countless times of trying, constantly pushing, and shoving.
Of course, I never said a word. I retained an inner faith that I could persevere and rest on the other side of hell. In subtle moments, I would tell my clinicians that something wasn’t right, but all the tests returned primarily normal. Thus, I said nothing of what I was experiencing.
Now, a little over a year later, I cannot recognize myself anymore. I am tired. And like a used car, I sometimes long for the day when I toss to a scrap pile and retire. I am exhausted and feel like a boat with no compass sailing into the storm over the horizon. I can only relinguish control.