Saturday 24 February 2018

You Only Live Once

I guess you could say I went from "0 to 100",  literally.

The IVIG had worked its magic on me, turning me into a new person.  My counts went from 1 (1000) to closer to 100 (100 000).  Of course, I couldn't wait to tell all my friends about my experience in the hospital. I made a mental list just so I didn't forget the cute boy in the playroom, or the cool cartoon that came on way past my bedtime.  I was beginning to think that this whole hospital thing wasn't so bad.  But my stay came to an end and back to the real world I went.

Grade 5 was both intimidating and exhilarating.  Despite us being the wide-eyed, new kids that had troubles remembering what boot rack was ours or the grade 6 students', I'd like to think we turned out okay.  Some of us got pelted with dodgeballs thrown by the "big" grade 9 kids and some of us were taken under their wings.  At this point in my life, we had no idea if my ITP would be chronic and due to that, I am extremely thankful that I wasn't the one getting pelted with dodgeballs.

I often get asked, "Do you feel like you missed out on anything?" and it always makes me think.
Yes and no.

Of course, it would be nice to be able to play Grounders on the monkey bars without the fear of falling and getting a bruise. It would be awesome to run full speed, jump onto a crazy carpet and slide down the Pasquia Park hill without having to know my counts beforehand.  But at the same time, I thought I was a pretty cool kid. I had been to the hospital, got an IV, stayed up past my bedtime, and got to eat ice cream for breakfast (on occasion). My nine-year-old-self was content.  This was my life, and soon I forgot that I even had a previous life, different to the one I was living. 

Life went on.  I had my 10th birthday.  My family went to Disney World for Christmas.  We traded our minivan in for an Equinox (I have just started to accept the fact that the Equinox is not just a trial run before we got the van back).  I made it through my first year of high school. Life carried on as if my incident with ITP was just an accident that wasn't even meant to be in my life.
Disney World 2010




















Once I got to grade 7, I was thrilled. Finally, I could play sports.  It felt like I had been waiting forever.  I joined volleyball, basketball, badminton, and track & field. My schedule began to fill up fast and I fell in love with being busy.  As years went on, I joined more sports and clubs throughout the school and community.  I was finding the love for sports on my own.  

I was in grade 8 at the time.  My coach, Ms Arnst, had loaded up the Junior 'A' Volleyball team into the 15-passenger van and we were on our way to some intense games of volleyball in Bjorkdale.  Everything was going as planned and I was getting quite excited to hit the court.  Little did I know, I would hit the court way harder, in a way more painful way than I EVER could have imagined. 

It was warmups and we must have won the coin toss because we were hitting first while Tisdale was warming up behind us.  It was my turn to spike the ball and Sam set me up beautifully. That's all I remember prior to landing on the ground, having my left hip hit first before I yelled, "OUCH!"

A volleyball had rolled from the team's warm-up occurring behind me.  After completing my approach and attack, both of my feet landed directly on the volleyball, causing me to crash down onto the cold, hard gymnasium floor.  My left hip caught most of my body weight and my wrists were next to hit the ground.  At that moment I couldn't recall anything that was more painful or embarrassing.

To all of you volleyball players, it is WAY more important than you might think to yell, "BALL!" when your volleyball has rolled from your area to another team's.  I am forever wishing someone would have alerted our team before this accident happened.
This was the bruise on my hip after my fall




















To this day, we don't know if my platelets were low to begin with, causing me to bruise SO badly after that fall or if the bruise itself attracted my platelets, caused them to drop.  We will never know.  All we knew at the time was that I hit the ground and low platelets or not, there was going to be a nasty bruise.

On the bright side, according to my mom and teammates, I had a "beautiful" hit!
Club Volleyball Photo (best one I could find)
















There was a family wedding the next weekend in Saskatoon.  My mom, auntie Sari, Janay, Mackenzie (cousin), Brennan (cousin), and I got dressed up, piled into auntie Sari's new, shiny black Ford truck, and drove to the city for an exciting day.  After the wedding ceremony, I began to notice more speckles on my ankles.  At this point in my life, it was almost exactly three years since my first ITP incident.  I was hesitant at first but then I decided that it would be best if I showed my mom.  Because my mom never really saw what I looked like the first time my platelets dropped, we allowed Janay to make the call on whether I should get looked at or whether it could wait.  

"We need to go to the hospital," she stated, calmly (in true Janay-fashion)

So that was that.  We found a Superstore walk-in clinic to see a doctor.  The doctor, Dr Dangor,  ordered a CBC, insisting that bloodwork was necessary before taking me to the hospital.  I remember the waiting room at the lab being so full that we couldn't find a place to sit so we asked if it would be okay if we could sit out in the hall.  They agreed but reminded us that we had to be watching for when our number was called.  No big deal.  So we waited and waited before mom stuck her head back in the waiting room to check what number.  It was on the one right after ours.  We missed it.  So mom, as pleasant as she really is, went to the counter and said a few "nice" things that convinced them to let us go in, despite missing our number and being prompted to take a new number.  Finally, I got my bloodwork done and we were sent on our way, assured that if there were any flags we would get a call immediately. 

Once we were all settled in at the hotel, getting ready for the wedding dance, my mom received a call from Dr Angel (no, I am not making these names up). Dr Angel told us that my platelets had dropped to 16 and he wanted us to go to the Pediatric Emergency Room at RUH to get assessed and monitored.  Mom and I are convinced that Dr Dangor may have passed away due to old age before getting my results which would explain why a different doctor called us.  As soon as mom got off the phone, I knew exactly what was next.  Then the flashback came: needles. Then the tears started flowing.

All I could think was, "they don't know how to give needles and dad isn't here to save me"

Fortunately, I didn't need an IVIG treatment this time but I did need bloodwork periodically during my two hours of being monitored.  To our surprise, my hematologist who was out of the country as a guest speaker, called the RUH Pediatric ER to make sure things were running smoothly and offer her expertise if anyone needed.  I needed her more than ever.  Although my counts hovered at about 16 while I was being watched, Dr Sinha and the hospital staff believed that I would be safe to go.  After this ordeal, I realized that I was so caught up in my own fears and worries to even notice that my mom had only finished curling HALF of her hair!

Let me tell ya, the hospital has never been something to stop me from having fun! As soon as I got out of there, I insisted on going to the wedding dance.  I can assure you that I made the biggest fashion statement: green and purple fuzzy pyjama pants with a bright green bunnyhug that had "YOLO" printed on the front although mom was a close second with her wild hair!
Photo of the YOLO bunnyhug 




















Prior to the follow-up appointment with Dr Sinha, I was told to come up with as many questions I could think of to ask her.  When the time came, there was only one, major question floating around in my head:

"Dr Sinha... can I still play volleyball?"
"I guess so, as long as you wear your helmet!"

I don't know if I was more amused that she thought that volleyball players needed a helmet or thrilled because I could still play my favourite sport.  To this day, Dr Sinha is one of my biggest inspirations.  She taught me SO much about ITP and different aspects of health while I taught her about sports and the proper equipment.  I will forever be thankful for all that she has done for me.


Of course, we learned a few more things from this experience:
  1. Needles don't hurt as bad as the aftermath of landing on a volleyball with both feet
  2. RUH nurses are much better at giving needles 
  3. Dr Dangor's life may have been in more danger than my own.. but we'll never know
  4. Mom is really good at talking her way out of more than just speeding tickets..
  5. It doesn't matter what you wear to a wedding, you can still have fun
  6. We are the most high maintenance crew to travel with
  7. Although mom is capable of driving a brand new truck without crashing, she is very capable of getting us lost... more than once
  8. You Only Live Once (YOLO)
This was the second time my platelets dropped to another critically low level.  Personally, 16 isn't too scary for me but it causes quite a scare for most people.  As a rule, under the expert advice of Dr Sinha, I wasn't to be treated unless I dropped to less than 10 platelets (10 000).  Still, we do not know what is causing my platelets to drop but we are anxiously waiting for somebody to find an answer. 


Your fragile friend, Tianna



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