My Experience

Twice in the 2-3 weeks before the marrow donation, I donated my own blood, which would be transfused back to me to ward off anemia and fatigue after the procedure. Each of these donations was quick, relatively painless and easy. There was also some pre-donation blood work done to determine compatibility. They drew approximately 25 small vials to send off for testing. The day before the procedure, I packed for the hospital, and attempted to compose a note to the recipient. I was allowed to send a card or letter, but not supposed to give my name or where I live or anything personally identifying. The next day, I took the note to the hospital with me to the 3rd Floor for Same Day Surgery, which was easy to find. I then waited for over 40 minutes for no apparent reason, since I knew good and well that I was the absolute first surgery on the docket for the day.

They eventually brought me back to the pre-op area, took the letter, and told me to change into the hospital gowns they provided. Apparently the gowns are all “one size fits someone much smaller than me.” At this point, they took my vital signs and the anesthesiologist came over to numb my hand, draw some blood and put in an IV. While he was doing this, I asked him what they needed the extra 50 cc’s of blood for.

Eventually, they wheeled me into the operating room, which true to form, could double as a meat locker. Luckily, they threw some heated blankets over me, which was very nice. The doctor introduced himself to me a few minutes later and briefly went over the extraction procedure, which involves a Thomas needle (large bore hollow needle that they insert through the muscle in your lower back and into your ileac crest before it punches through into the marrow, or as I referred to it during my pre-operative information session, “the creamy nougat center”). They put the needle through and withdraw about 5-10 ml with a stopper, then in the same injection site, move the needle over and go into a different part of the bone and take another 5-10 ml until they have enough. This keeps down the number of puncture sites in your lower back which keeps you from looking like a human pincushion when all is said and done. Halfway through the procedure, they do a cell count (some whiz-bang centrifugal techno-dealie, as I believe it was explained to me) and determine how much more they’re going to need.

So, I’m flat on my back in the operating room and asking questions about the anesthesia.

Me: “Hey, do they still have you count backwards from 100 when you administer the drugs?”

Them: “Uh, no. We haven’t done that for years. Out of curiosity, how far did you get?”

Me: “97..”

Them: “Hey, pretty good!”

Then I was told that I might feel a slight sensation as the general anesthesia was administered in my IV. It’s a really weird feeling, because it’s very cold, and you can actually feel it coming into your arm and stealing over your body. I said “wow, that’s pretty cold,” and I actually had the taste of the stuff in my mouth. I think I said something about that, or started to, when the surrounding operating room very gently but suddenly slid away from me and the curtain of darkness came down. You know, it’s pretty strange to be perfectly healthy and to have an operation. All kinds of bizarre things can go through your mind. If you have a wrecked knee or a tumor or appendicitis, yeah, an operation is what you need and on some level you just don’t question it. Frankly, I hadn’t really been thinking about the reality of this procedure all that much, but when they shot the drugs through the IV, I had a brief moment of “hey, what the fuck am I doing?” before that thought went away.

I was awakened an indeterminate amount of time later from a nice, happy dream (I think they can tell when you go from Drug Sleep to Regular Sleep) with someone asking me “Can you wake up and take a deep breath for us, please?”

My first thought, of course, was “yes, but why?” I think they thought I was still looped from the drugs because I said something like “Jeez, I’ve got a pregnant wife on bedrest and a two year old at home – I was really looking forward to getting some sleep!” Nothing. Not a humorous bunch down in the recovery room. The anesthesiologist came over and said that I did great and asked if I was in any pain. I really wasn’t, to tell the truth. In fact, the whole thing feels like a mild bad back with some localized soreness around the injection points. That’s how I knew it had happened, because otherwise, I was in great shape. He said “well, if you need anything, let us know. We’ll get you some Percocet, or whatever.” I said somewhat apologetically, “Um, I don’t think I’ll need anything like that.” I’m sure the drug-seeking among you think I’m nuts, but all I wound up asking for was a couple of Tylenols with codeine later that afternoon. It’s the kind of pain that you just know is basically going to be gone in about a week. In addition, I felt remarkably alert and clear-headed and said something about my experience 20 years ago as I was being wheeled out of the room. “Way better drugs now, WAY better,” another anesthesiologist shot over his shoulder as I went by.

I got wheeled up to the 15th floor to a private room, did my own transfer off the gurney and tried to find a comfortable position in the hospital bed. The nurse asked me if I needed anything. I settled for asking if I’d missed lunch. She promised to check with the doctor and get back to me. About five minutes later, she said the good news was that I could “eat whatever [you] want.” The bad news was that I couldn’t do that until 3pm and it was only 11:30 now. I was also a little cold and still didn’t have all the blood back in me that I’d donated the previous couple of weeks. The first pint was still draining in, then got switched over to an IV of “poor man’s Gatorade.” (They told me I wouldn’t want to drink this stuff, but it was essentially a sports drink without the flavoring.) After that, I got just another regular IV drip of pretty neutral fluid. And I drank all the water they would give me because getting IV fluids does jack shit for quenching your thirst. My friends said I pinked up after getting back the blood. I felt warmer, too.

3pm finally came and a friend showed up bearing Chinese food, which I’d been craving ever since they woke me up. One huge bowl of hot ‘n’ sour soup and an order of garlic shrimp later, I was feeling much better. Interestingly, the only nausea I felt was from eating an Oreo cookie on top of that.

Everyone took a lap around the hospital floor when I had to get up to go pee, as a couple gallons of fluid were making their presence known. The staff wanted to know how much output you produce after surgery to make sure your bladder and kidneys are working. That’s the crummy part about IV fluids – you have to go to the bathroom every 40 minutes. This must be what pregnant women feel like, I guess. After a brief nap, I woke up to take a couple phone calls and then went back to sleep relatively pain-free.

Next morning, I had a mediocre breakfast and waited to be discharged. The hours dragged on. I never saw the doctors that morning because they were doing another marrow aspiration, so the nurse practitioner came to see me. That’s when the most painful part of the entire procedure took place. See, they slap two pressure bandages on the puncture sites, which look like two vampire bites in my lower back, to keep down the swelling and make sure everything seals up. This is not a bit of gauze with some tape tacked to the corners. Picture two white plastic film pieces with padding about the size of two large postcards, liberally slathered with industrial grade glue. The whole thing is designed to act as a second skin and keep pressure on the wound. Consequently, it felt as if they were ripping my ass off my skeleton when they removed this stuff. I had bloody welts that are WAY more painful than the actual surgery. They stayed for over a week. The nurse practitioner said “there’s adhesive on the back of this.” I said “gee, ya think” and told ‘em I’d take that Percocet to go, STAT.

I made a follow-up appointment with my doctor later in the week to get a blood count to make sure that I was doing okay and took iron and folic acid for about a month to make sure I wasn’t anemic. I had the procedure Wednesday, came home Thursday, went to work the following Monday. I could walk and drive with no problem. The hardest part was getting into and out of the car, and within a week I was 70% recovered, within a month 90% and the last 10% came within 6-7 weeks.