On 8/11/2015 8:18 AM, J Burns wrote:
On 8/11/15 12:37 AM, micky wrote:
In alt.home.repair, on Mon, 10 Aug 2015 22:32:35 -0400, J Burns
wrote:


He was diagnosed with Hepatitis C in 1998. He said he didn't know how

I gave blood around 1988, and soon got a letter from the Red Cross
saying I had non-A, non-B, non-C hepatitits, something not really known
to exist at the time (Since C wa a catch-all for a while) and that I
shouldnt' give blood anymore. They do this diagnosis based not on any
symptoms I had but on values of certain things in the blood.

I didn't really like giving blood, so that was a good, compelling
excuse.

Then 15 years later I got a letter from them (It pays not to move)
telling me that new information or new studies or something meant I
didnt' have hepatitis after all...... but I still shoudn't give blood.
My internist couldnt' explain that.


One morning in January of 1980, I suddenly felt cold. I got into a
mummy sleeping bag in a warm room. I couldn't get warm. For four days,
I couldn't eat, a flight of stairs was exhausting, and i couldn't get
warm except in the shower. It was a mystery. Until a few minutes before
I got into the sleeping bag, my health had seemed excellent.

I finally went to the neighborhood doctor. He flew into a rage when I
walked in. He said he knew I had hepatitis because my eyes were yellow.
He told me to get to a hospital before I infected the whole town.

I didn't know why he would insinuate that I had an infectious disease
that decent citizens didn't get, unless me presumed I was a substance
abuser. Why of course! I was a Vietnam veteran. You can never live
down a disgrace like that.

There I was, deathly ill, cold, and weak, and I couldn't even stay in
bed. He was banishing me from his town without even telling me what was
wrong. It was snowing. There were already 5" on the roads. The VA
hospital was 20 miles away. The trip would take an hour or so, most of
it standing at bus stops in the blowing snow.

I'd never really come back from Vietnam. Now I felt like I was there,
and I was glad. "Easy come, easy go, it never was my country anyway."

I'd seen pieces of Midnight Cowboy on TV. I figured I'd end up like
Dustin Hoffman, dead and cold on a bus seat. It was a long walk up the
driveway in the snow to the hospital. They took blood. Except for
immunizations, 57 stitches for 8 wounds in the Marines, and a cortisone
shot after treatment for a broken elbow had been withheld 3 years in the
Coast Guard, that was the only time I'd been stuck with a needle, but
the neighborhood doc seemed to have me pegged as a drug addict.

I sat for hours in the waiting area, cold, weak, and nauseous. Then I
was called in to see a young doctor. He told me I had mononucleosis.
Nothing could be done for me, and I'd be sick for six months. He told me
to go home.

I doubted I'd make it. With no treatment, I would have been better off
if I'd never gotten out of bed, but I was glad I'd come. Now I knew
what was killing me. More important, he knew I was a Vietnam veteran
but hadn't talked to me like scum. I'd been back 12 years, and that was
a novelty.

When I got back, I found I could eat a little. For weeks, I slept around
the clock, unable to stay awake more than 15 minutes. Climbing stairs
was exhausting. It was six weeks before I could step outside and seven
months before I felt fairly well.

Many people don't even know they have mononucleosis, but it's fatal in
2% of males. Normally, swelling of the liver and spleen is a clinical
symptom. In the unlucky few, the virus explodes when it hits the liver,
and they die of necrosis.

I don't think my liver ever swelled. It must have been wiped out in a
matter of minutes. I believe my liver made a lot of glycogen. It could
keep me going all day without getting hungry or thirsty, but I think it
was like gunpowder and the virus was a spark. Without a liver to make
vital substances and detoxify, I could only lie there getting cold like
a corpse.

I think two things saved me. Without a liver, I don't think I was
making anything to sustain the virus, and a liver can regenerate. In 96
hours, I think I had enough liver function to keep me alive, but I
didn't know it because I was following civilization's hypocritical rule
to pursue medical attention. That could have killed me and was probably
a big setback to my recovery. Who cares? The goal of medicine is money.


I'm glad you survived both Vietnam and mono.

Thank you for serving, too.

--
Maggie