MDS Man Earns H1N1 Shot

What a difference a day makes. Two days ago I felt like a wet rag—please, just let me sleep. Yesterday, I more resembled the Energizer Bunny.

What the . . .!?!

As a reward for my high-energy state, I took myself to Dr. Primary Care's office for an H1N1 flu shot. This was no small deal. Being approved for the vaccine may have been just as tough as getting accepted at Harvard.

First: When I called to make the appointment, I prefaced my request with "Dr. PC says I qualify for the shot." After a moment's off-phone research the young lady told me without affect that she'd checked my chart and nothing indicated a condition serious enough to merit the honor of this inoculation.

- There is a serious condition, said I.

- What is it?

- MDS.

- What's MDS?

- Myelodysplastic syndrome.

[Pause. Shuffling of phone. Voices off.]

- When to you want to come in?

Second: once in the examining room, I could overhear an aide talking on the phone.

- Could you ask so-and-so why Mitchell Kaplan qualifies for an H1N1 shot?

- Do you want me to tell you,? I called from my seat on the examining table.

No response.

I walked to the next room.

- Do you want me to tell you?

And I explained myself again.

And again to the nurse practitioner who would do the stabbing.

At least I didn't have to provide references and a resumé.

So, I'd reaped one of the benefits of MDS—another needle. Then, I returned home, went back to work, and continued my Energizer Bunny day. If only the energy would last, I could suffer numberless needles and conquer the world.

MDS: Is It the Flu? Bring the Chocolate

Slight flu-like symptoms set in Thursday just before dinner.

At least I thought it was that:

• headache
• body aches
• feeling like a slight temperature
• feeling some chills.

Not too much. Just a bit. Still, thought I, just what I need. The damned flu shot's given me the disease.

I retreated to the bedroom, turned on the TV and ate two sections of a Trader Joe's milk chocolate bar.

Symptoms gone.

Yesterday—same thing.

Does this mean that chocolate is the cure for very mild flu symptoms?

Or, what if it's a chocolate-Vidaza interaction? Now, that could be groundbreaking.

MDS & Flu Shots - Go the the Head of the Line

Traveled to Dr. Primary's place yesterday at 8:30 a.m. for a flu shot. By 4 p.m., I was convinced I had the flu.

The psycho head games continue. To quote the Scarecrow: ah, if I only had a brain.

Prior to my visit, I inquired of Dr. P by phone his thoughts on the H1N1 virus inoculation. He was apparently unaware of, or forgotten that, I was on Vidaza.

"I don't think your bone marrow condition means you're in a priority situation," he said. "You're not on chemo, or anything like that, right?"

"Well, actually I am. I'm on Vidaza, which is a kind of chemo.  Dr. O says I'm a fully qualified 'chronically ill senior.'"

In that case, he agreed, I rated priority.

Of course, his office doesn't have he vaccine as yet. "Keep calling," he said, "and when we do have it, tell the desk I said you're a priority case. They won't believe you, naturally, so they'll check with me. But it'll be okay."

Well, why should they believe me? We've only been dealing with the docs in this practice (who are universally wonderful, by the way) for 20 years or so. I could just be an hysterical patient—or an egomaniac—who craves attention.

Never mind. I've finally made it: a priority case. VIP. Head-of-the-line. On the list. The Big Time.

This is some crappy realm in which to attain status—a mystery illness that pulls down an untested treatment for another mystery illness.

I think I'd rather earn flying first-class privileges, or 50 yard line suite seats at the football games. But, you can't get those via a disease.

My 4 p.m. flu-like symptoms disappeared by 8.

No flu. No vaccine. No first-class flying. But, I'm priority. We'll just have to take our perqs where we can find them.

MDS & Flu: To Shoot or Not to Shoot

On Monday, I forgot one question I had aimed to ask Dr. O—Can flu shot(s) be done by her, and when?

Yesterday, I remembered to ask.

Her short answers were:

• Yes.
• I don't know.

Apparently the vaccines haven't reached her office yet.

She recommended I contact Dr. Primary's office to see if they have the vaccines. But, she cautioned not to actually receive the shots whilst amidst this Vidaza shots cycle.

It seems fairly common knowledge that the distribution of the H1N1 vaccine has caused confusion. That situation was illustrated just yesterday in a NY Times article Swine Flu Vaccine Reaches an Anxious Nation. Questions revolve around

• For how many people is there enough vaccine?
• Who gets priority?

Among those who do get priority are "children and chronically ill adults." Dr. O proudly assured me that I qualify as a chronically ill adult.

So, there you have it: Chronically Ill Adult. Another title or identification I've achieved, along with such hard-earned laurels as High School Graduate, Bachelor of Arts, Master of Fine Arts, Author, Published Photographer, Expert Skier, Husband, Father and Former House Painter and Moving Man.

Attaining this designation makes me feel so special. It engenders a sense of pride, accomplishment and success that simply cannot be imagined by mere healthy mortals. Thanks be to my crippled chromosomes, for it is they that now permit me to jump to the head of the line. I rank among the privileged. And, for that, I will be permitted to accept yet another needle.

Oh the joy to be so special.
Oh the pride imbued in rating VIP service.
Oh the thrill of getting yet more holes punched into my arms.

I nodded, and told Dr. O I'd contact Dr. P's office immediately.

I promptly went home and forgot to make the call.