High C

Since Calliope's birth, lots of people have asked me what spherocytosis is. Let me see if I can explain... Calliope's (and Benjamin's) red blood cells are spherical instead of donut-shaped. It is the spleen's job to filter out abnormally-shaped (i.e. non-donut-shaped) blood cells. A problem arises because the spleen doesn't recognize spherocytes as "normal" red blood cells, so what does it do? It QC's those pesky abnormal RBCs and destroys them. Since most of Calliope's red blood cells are round, this can lead to a lot of destroying, which in turn, can lead to low counts of RBCs. Most of the time, that's not a big deal, but when the counts get low enough, she can go into anemic shock, which is a big deal. Our goal is to avoid getting that low, which is why we monitor Calliope's blood counts, which brings me to the topic of this post: Calliope's recent trip to the hospital for her first post-NICU blood transfusion WHEW, that was a mouthful!
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There had been talk in recent weeks of tranfusing Calliope so that we could take a worry-free trip to Chicago for Vince's cousin's wedding. As you can imagine, I was less than thrilled about the prospect of submitting my child to an elective blood transfusion, and I had been on the fence about whether or not the trip was worth that. As it happens, Calliope took the decision out of my hands when her counts dropped low enough to necessitate a transfusion anyway. So last Wednesday, we checked into UCLA Santa Monica hospital to do just that.
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The room we checked in to happened to be two doors down from the room where Benjamin stayed for one of his first transfusions two years ago. I recognized Terri, the coolest nurse on planet. She was able to start an IV in one of Benjamin's impossibly tiny veins back then, and she did the same for Calliope this time around.

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Unfortunately, even the most gifted of hands can't prevent a baby from feeling the stick of the needle.
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Luckily, Calliope had visitors to lift her spirits. I wondered if Benjamin would have unpleasant memories of what happened the last time he was there. Would he see the shiny instruments and recoil in horror? Would the antiseptic smell of the room trigger a nasty flashback?
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Nope! He had seemed to have zero recollection of his past experiences. He climbed onto the bed, commandeered the remote control, and started wolfing down my dinner. Go ahead, Benjamin, make yourself riiiight at home.
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Of course, the Boo did more than just relax and pig out. He also took the time to cuddle with his baby sister and offer his support to her.
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That is so cute I think we should see it again and closer up:
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I'm sure that any mom would find the sight of her older spherocytotic child comforting his younger spherocytotic sibling right before she receives a blood transfusion to be extremely endearing. Right?

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The transfusion finally got started close to midnight. Poor Calliope wasn't too happy when the nurses came in to fuss with her IV and kicked up quite a ruckus.
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Once the process was underway, she was able to relax again. Over the course of the next four hours, Calliope received an infusion of "normal" red blood cells that her spleen would not destroy. The transfusion ended around 4 am, after which we both finally fell asleep.
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I awoke around 7 am to the sensation of Calliope's tiny body wriggling next to mine. As I groggily pulled myself from slumber, I heard the sound of cooing and giggling, too.
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That transfusion really made quite a difference! Calliope seemed like a different baby. The night before she was cranky and lethargic. Now, she seemed positively... high. That was my honest impression of her that morning. It was as though she'd been smoking the ganja and was ready to eat a bucket of KFC and watch "Half Baked." Am I allowed to say that, or should I get ready for CPS to come knocking on my door?
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We're jammin'!