Sometimes the scariest part of medicine is the waiting.
From time to time, I donate blood. Not a lot, though I was proud when last year I reached one gallon. So, when I had the chance a couple of weeks ago, I did it again.
Last Friday, I got a letter from the Red Cross. My blood work came back positive for Hepatitis C.
The Red Cross uses two tests for Hep C. The first has a lot of false positives, so they fall back on the second. It was “inconclusive.”
It hit me hard. They told me that it’s highly likely this is a false result, but I’m now permanently banned from giving blood again. That’s trivial.
I keep telling myself there’s no possible way I got infected with Hep C. It’s transmitted by blood, and the last time anyone stuck a needle in me was the last time I donated blood. It’s also theoretically possible I could have gotten it from dental work. But in both cases, anything used was sterilized.
But the possibility scares the shit out of me. It’s an insidious disease – no symptoms for years, until it destroys your liver. There are medications that can work, but chances are no more than 50-50.
And I have to wait. I waited all weekend to set up an appointment with my doctor. I’ll have to wait until Thursday to get the blood drawn. And then I’ll have to wait for the result. It will probably be negative. The odds are strongly in my favor.
But I can’t stop worrying.