extra salt on the buffalo

Dear Internets,
Congress has crossed over from the useless to the actively evil with the passage of the tyranny act of 2006. Also, the doctors are continuing on their quest to figure out just what is so weird about my blood. (Don't worry, nobody thinks the answer is leukemia.) Last week I got to see my GP again, who sent me to get an echocardiogram ("Look," said the tech, "four chambers!". "Is that a girl or a boy?" I mumbled.) and to see a pulmonologist. Turns out I have exceptionally strong heart and lungs. The pulmonologist thought my blood pressure was awfully screwy, and recommended that I eat more salt. "How?" I asked. "I never think 'this needs more salt' and refrain from picking up the salt shaker." Turns out they make salt tablets for that. Who knew?

The pulmonologist wanted to transfuse me right away. "But what about my reticulocyte count?" I asked. "Why hasn't it gone up?" Blood, it turns out, is very interesting. Reticulocytes are baby red blood cells. When you are anemic, if you've got all the stuff your body needs to make red blood cells, which in theory I now do, your bone marrow starts churning out those suckers at an increased pace. "Damnit, we need those RBCs yesterday!!!" shout your oxygen-deprived tissues, and the marrow factory starts running on a 24-hour schedule. So if you have anemia from some vitamin or mineral deficiency, your reticulocyte count should go way up about 5-7 days after you fix the deficiency.

Mine has gone nowhere. I'm making a normal number of reticulocytes, when what I need is an all-hands-on-deck Christmas-rush number of them. Apparently, my bone marrow is lazy. Or on a work slowdown. Or deaf, and just not getting the message. Or mismanaged. Or suffering from poor morale due to rumors that its job is going to be outsourced to India.

Next week I get to see a hematologist, who might be able to tell me what exactly is wrong with my blood, and a high-risk, who I hope will tell me that I am not in fact high-risk, so I can go back to my midwife and not enter a c-section factory for my delivery.

Okay, composing this post has used up too much oxygen. I need to rest now.