True colors shining through...

I've come to strongly dislike certain colors of the spectrum. 

Actually, the only color currently on my shitlist is RED.

Red is the color of the blood my body is lacking, which brings with it fatigue, shortness of breath, paleness, headaches, and all around weakness.

Red is the color of the liquid in the baggy attached to the IV pole when I get my iron infusions, which brings with it nausea, bloating, and a general feeling of malaise.

Red is the color of the folder I'm handed when I walk into the cancer center to receive my infusion, which brings with it a ticket to the room of recliners filled with other shallow faced patients receiving infusions of chemo, iron, or whatever other poisons are supposed to help. 

Red equals anger, pain, and depression.

I hate the color red.

In 5 years time...

It's been about five years, give or take, since my diagnosis. Overall things have been ok. I've been somewhat healthy in those years, not counting any common variety cold or flu bug that may have crossed my path.

In general, things were good.

Were.

Five years ago I was told that most people usually survive five years before requiring a transplant. I figured I had a head start since most people usually don't receive their diagnosis until they are symptomatic. I thought I had more time.

I fear that may not be the case anymore.

At the end of December of 2015, I developed a very bad case of anemia. I've had to have 5 blood transfusions since that hospitalization. Yes, each transfusion brought with it between a 3 day to 2 week hospital stay, multiple probes, tests, and indignities.

Every week I find myself at the cancer center along side cancer patients receiving chemotherapy, as I myself recover IV iron infusions, with the small hope that it will curb my lack of blood.

So where is my blood you may wonder? It's being systematically destroyed by my body faster than I can produce it. My spleen and liver are hoarding red blood cells which never make it to the iron to create what it needs to in order for a body to function.

In short, my organs are slowly failing.

I'm forty years old now. I don't know how much more fight I have left in me.

But it's back on the test, wait, test again carousel for now.

I hope in 5 years time things will finally stabilize, and I can finally breathe.