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Wringing Some Blood Out of The Blogger

By Tom Gaertner
Thursday, Jun 12 2008, 05:17 AM

Back in the good-old-days medical treatments were simple and straight-forward.  Opiates and alcohol were the pharmaceuticals of choice - sometimes concocted in interesting combinations.  The practice of bloodletting - a procedure to relieve the body of the ill humors - was immensely popular.

Intended to heal the sick it probably killed quite a few people as well.  It maybe killed George Washington. 

Maybe not.

Anyway my barber no longer pulls teeth, amputates limbs or administers leeches.  Given his shaky hands he no longer uses a straight razor.  This is a good thing.

To be fair - leeches have enjoyed a remarkable comeback and occupy a useful niche in modern medicine - although I am of the opinion that they are better suited as walleye bait.

I have a good feeling today having had a really good bleeding.

This was donation number 140. 

Visualize seventeen and a half gallons of blood.  Blech. 

The nice people at the Blood Center of Wisconsin always give me a call as soon as I'm eligible to donate.  They tell me that is because I belong to the seven percent of the population sharing the O-negative blood type - meaning I am a universal donor. 

In the world of blood products this is the equivalent of always being the guy that has to buy a round of drinks.

The blood people also tell me I am CMV negative - apparently making my blood particularly suited for use with infants or patients with compromised immune systems. 

Yep.  I buy another round.

Since the blood people have apparently screened, studied and analyzed my blood down to the last corpuscle they've gone out of their way to point out that I also happen to have (what they characterize as) Robust T-Cells.  The resulting consequence of which is they've roped me into participating as a lab rat in Dr. Jack Gorski's NIH study on how to improve vaccines.

With all that going for me you'd think I could sell the stuff, get rich and retire. 

Nope.  Only voluntary donations allowed.

I'm still buying.

On the flip side I take perverse satisfaction in knowing that there's a growing population of kids out there who have some of my hemoglobin coursing through their veins.

Consider the possibility that - having been transfused with my blood - all of the those youngsters will grow-up, manifest my personality traits and move to Tosa.

Gives you the creeps - eh?

If you're looking to do a good turn and earn a warm and fuzzy feeling I recommend a good bleeding - at the Blood Center.

There's a convenient Tosa location over on Watertown Plank Road. 

Call 1-877-BE-A-HERO and schedule an appointment.

As of Wednesday afternoon they tell me that in the past couple of weeks they've periodically been down to a one day supply.

You never know - you might need a unit or two someday.

There is no substitute.

Tom


 

Good Medicine Gone Bad

By Tom Gaertner
Thursday, May 1 2008, 08:24 AM

In January of 1990 I experienced a life-altering event.

I had a bad accident engaging in a seemingly fun winter sport -

Tobogganing.

There was no booze or drugs involved - just my girl friend, a bunch of friends and the kids having a blast on a sunny Sunday.

The crash left me with an unstable burst fracture of the twelfth thoracic vertebrae. 

Things were not looking very good for Tom.

Quickly collecting opinions from various docs - one surgeon seemed to stand-out.

His claim was that he could get me on my feet in practically no time.  Well - not exactly - reasonably soon.

He was one of Milwaukee's hottest surgeons.  Bright, competent, confident.

He was at the top of his game.

I underwent a nine hour surgery to reduce the fracture and stabilize the spine. 

Even with a Cell Saver I received an additional five units of whole blood.

My spine was held together with some fancy plates and lag bolts.

A week later a thoracic surgeon cracked my chest, and the first surgeon sawed-off a rib and used it to perform a posterior fusion of the spine.

After a month in the hospital I was sent home with a brace to wear.

I spent most of the following year working part time and getting better. 

In the spring of 1991 the doctor removed the hardware.

I thanked the him for his skill, confidence and inspiration which sped my recovery.

I gave-up running and embraced riding my bicycle with renewed enthusiasm.

(I kept the hardware as a souvenir of my adventure and stopped setting-off airport metal detectors.)

This was the doc.

Photo/Kevin Hamack

You've probably read about this in the news.

I eventually married the girlfriend that was with me on that January day and we've been living happily ever-after.

Not so for Mark Benson.

Formerly MD.

Booze and drugs. 

A slide into the abyss.

Finally a crash resulting in deaths.

I suspect his life isn't going to end so happily ever-after.

God help him. 

Tom


 
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