Chapter 50
The Race for Hemoglobin
“That’s it, I’ve regressed three years. I’m sorry,” she told me that evening, when the transfusion was already hooked to her arm.
I didn’t understand why she was apologizing, as though she were to blame for something. We both knew this would come sooner or later. We had already passed the one-year grace period from the boss’s prediction, and maybe we would be granted even more time. Who knew?
“You, you didn’t deserve this,” she suddenly said.
“We both have responsibility for this relationship. And as a doctor, I knew even better than you what I was getting into,” I replied, with a trace of anger. “The decision was entirely mine, and I don’t regret it for a moment.”
Lily began to cry.
“I promise you, I’ll get out of this!” she swayed between laughter and tears. I had always known the closeness between us was like that of Siamese twins, but now I saw it more than ever.
“Of course,” I said, more a wish than certainty.
I squeezed her free hand tightly and stroked her face gently. Her skin was soft as velvet.
“The hemoglobin dropped to six,” was the first thing she said to me in the morning when I kissed her.
“Do they know what caused the sudden drop?”
“I don’t think so, because they talked about the underlying disease that could cause anemia. You know, I had anemia in the past even without bleeding.”
“What do they plan to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Usually they keep you informed.”
“I think because of you, they’re trying to keep a low profile.”
“What do you mean?”
“They don’t want to involve you.”
“But why? It’s not like I’m getting in their way.”
“I know, they know, but still.”
“No one has spoken to me yet.”
As soon as grand rounds ended, I approached the deputy department head to find out what they intended to do. She replied that they were trying to identify the cause of the anemia, which apparently stemmed from the underlying disease.
“A personal piece of advice from me – be her husband, not her doctor,” she said in a different tone.
I was stunned, and more than that – offended.
Not for a moment had I thought of myself as her doctor.
Certainly not in this department. I had questions as a husband, as a lover, as a beloved one – not as a competitor.
“What are you trying to say?” I asked, trying to mask my feelings.
“Treat your wife as her husband. Like every husband treats his wife, especially when she is ill.”
“Look, I don’t interfere in any procedure. I just want to know, and I think I’m entitled to that.”
“Would you like me to tell you when the official hours are for family consultations with the department’s doctors?” Her tone turned formal.
“I understand, thank you,” I said and turned away.
“Michael,” she called after me. I didn’t want to turn around. I didn’t want her to see me in tears. But I turned anyway.
“Yes?” I answered, my voice choked.
“I have a bit more experience than you. Be her husband – it’s better. Take advice from someone with experience.”
“But…” I couldn’t finish the sentence I wanted to say. “Thank you,” I said instead, and headed to Lily’s room.
On the way I went into the bathroom. I couldn’t let her see me like this. I washed my face and waited. Only when I managed to smile at the image in the mirror, when the signs of crying had disappeared, did I go to Lily.
I felt Shira following me. I didn’t want to tell her about the turmoil I had just experienced.
“What do the doctors say?” Lily was tense.
On the one hand, I didn’t want to disappoint her; on the other, I couldn’t avoid answering. I limited myself to saying they were investigating, and that the anemia was probably linked to the underlying disease, as before.
“I don’t believe them,” Lily said, surprising me. “Maybe they’re wrong?”
“Lily, don’t talk like that. You mustn’t create a crisis of trust now of all times.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’ve done so much for you over the years. They’re professionals. At least give them the chance to check.”
“Fine. The truth is, I don’t have a choice.”
“You don’t need a choice – you need to trust them. That’s all. They’re good.”
“I know,” she replied with a note of resignation.
“My Lily, I hope you’ll be back to yourself quickly.”
“Look, I don’t feel bad. Just a bit weak and tired, that’s all.”
“Do you want to go home?” I smiled at her.
“Yes, but I can’t. I need to regain my strength.”
“Has anyone spoken to you about being discharged?” I thought that was what she was getting at.
“Not yet, but they know me. I won’t stay one day – no, not even one minute – longer than necessary.”
“At least take the blood you’re missing.” I looked at the bag, already more than half empty.
“I know. But if they don’t have anything more to do with me, and if my hemoglobin is fine, I’m out of here. I could be home tomorrow morning. I’ll even promise them to fast, so they can draw blood for their tests without problems.”
A nurse came in and replaced the blood bag with a saline infusion. Lily asked to go out to the balcony. I tried to help her up and push the IV pole, but she resisted.
“I’m so experienced at this,” she said, this time with full laughter. At least for now, she had accepted being a patient in the ward.
“I see Eilat,” she said as we stood embracing on the wide balcony of her room.
“Eilat???”
“Just kidding. I miss Eilat so much – the workshop, the students…”
“You’ll be there in a few days. I think this sudden drop in hemoglobin points to bleeding, not the underlying disease. But who am I to say?”
“It’s strange to say, but I really hope you’re right.”
We looked southwest. The sun was almost setting, and the colors in the sky made us forget where we were. Tears filled her eyes – and mine too.
The next evening, Lily was released, though only temporarily, since she had to return each morning fasting for tests until her final discharge. Thanks to the transfusions, her hemoglobin rose to 11 and stayed that way for three days in a row. She was discharged completely.
In her discharge letter, which they couldn’t prevent me from reading, it was noted that Lily had anemia, apparently from the underlying disease.
The name of the disease was missing. At the end, the doctor recommended giving her 10 mg of hydrocortisone every two days.
Exactly as had been written in her discharge letter three years earlier, just as she had taken before Judah arrived.
Despite the physicians thinking that the underlying disease had caused the anemia, Lily was not given the customary steroid dosage.
Nor did she tell the doctors that before her admission to the ward, she had only been taking 5 mg of cortisone every two days. And we never brought it up between us.
And what a wonder: immediately upon her discharge from the hospital, she asked to go gallery-hopping. My pleas that she rest, relax, that the galleries would not run away – were of no use. Lily was there exactly one hour after her release.
The next day, we went down to Eilat, back to the workshop, to her teaching, and to her usual activities. Once every two weeks, she flew to her studies at the College of Art and Design. Her condition stabilized.