Rock Bottom

Brace yourselves.  This is when shit hits the fan, big time.

The rest of high school was uneventful.  I got through my classes, achieved high honours, and even had the privilege of giving the Valedictory Address at my graduation in June of 2017.  The final months of high school were filled with plans for my future.  Scholarship deadlines were left, right, and centre.  I was stressed out but for a good reason.  I was exhausted all the time but I was convinced that it was due to the amount of weight that I had on my shoulders.  Anyways, at the end of August 2017, I moved into my basement suite in Saskatoon where I would be living while attending the University of Saskatchewan.

Grad 2017

I had my class schedule, my textbooks, and my bus pass.  I was nervous but I was ready.  My schedule was pretty sweet (Thanks Mom).  Mondays and Wednesdays I only had one class during the day that went from 10:30-11:20am.  This was perfect for me because I didn't have to wake up early. On Fridays I had class from 9:30-11:20am which was also pretty great because I was able to travel home and make it to the school just in time for the football games.  Tuesdays and Thursdays on the other hand.... 8:30am-4:30pm.  This day consisted of my two most difficult classes and two other ones.  Needless to say, these days were mentally and physically draining.  I did my absolute best to work through my exhaustion that had been following me since high school... still convinced it was the stress because everyone knows just how stressful university is.

At this point in my life, I had been going for bloodwork as needed.  Since being extremely fatigued is one of my most prominent symptoms, I had made many appearances at the RUH lab.  (Shout out to Rachel and Rayna Morris for conquering the tunnels with me... after getting lost multiple times).  Throughout the semester, my platelet counts had been slowly tapering off.  I sat most of my grade 12 year around 30 but they have been slowly dropping since then.

It wasn't until December 11th, 2017 that I dropped within the treatment level.  Because I had recently turned 18, the new treatment range for Adult ITP patients is anything below 30 (30,000).

Platelets - 20 - LL
Platelets - 19 - LL
Platelets - 15 - LL

My new adult hematologist, Dr Pearson, called me about my levels and discussed the game plan.  He wanted to treat me at Saskatoon City Hospital the next week for two days as an outpatient.  It seemed simple enough but because of the horrible timing, it really was far from being simple.  To put this into perspective, I was a university student preparing for 5 final exams and a Bio Lab final, along with all the final papers and assignments due.  My parents also just flew to Arizona that morning so there was no way that they would be able to be with me while I was in the hospital.

This is how everything went down:

Monday, December 11th, 2017 - Indigenous Studies 107 Final & English 113 Final (and make time to sign blood consent at the hospital in between my two, 3-hour finals and during the office hours...which is where I met Denise, the receptionist who I now talk to on a regular basis)
Tuesday, December 12th, 2017 - IVIG treatment
Wednesday, December 13th, 2017 - IVIG treatment
Thursday, December 14th, 2017 - Biology 120 Final

It was absolute chaos.  But thankfully, my family is very supportive.  My Grandma Colleen drove to the city Monday night and stayed with me in a hotel close to City Hospital.  Originally, I thought that I would be fine by myself.  I figured that I would either catch a bus, get a friend to drop me off and pick me up or just drive myself but little did I know, the nurses decided to leave my IV in my hand overnight, making my left hand extremely stiff and sensitive.  There was no way I would've been able to drive.. but that didn't stop me from offering after Grandma and I got lost in the city a couple of times.  My Grandma Myrna and Grandpa Dan also made their way into the city and went out for supper with us at the Pink Cadillac one night (I was in need of a milkshake and I think Grandpa Dan agreed that it was a good choice).  I received multiple messages and phone calls from family members and family friends, all checking up on me and asking if I needed anything.

As you all probably could've guessed, studying in the hospital was not very effective.  I was tired and distracted.  It was also difficult to do things on my laptop using only one hand.  I likely could have appealed to write my finals at a later time due to medical reasons but I decided that it was my best bet to write them while the information was still fresh rather than three months later.  It was such a HUGE relief to have that week over with, you have no idea.

My counts went up to 58 after that IVIG treatment.  This was exciting for the nurses and my Grandma because my counts were higher.  This was not exciting for me at all because it was ONLY 58.  I just assumed that they only went up that much because it was a shorter treatment and in the course of two days.  That was that.  I was released the day that my parents were flying home from Arizona so that night, we all went for supper at Montana's that was conveniently located right beside where I lived at the time.  They too were excited that my counts had gone up.

Once I was done my finals for the semester, I returned home for the Christmas break.  I was super pumped about all the good food but more pumped that I didn't have any homework, for the first time since summer!

We celebrated Christmas early due to my cousin's hockey schedule and my university schedule.  It really doesn't matter when Christmas is celebrated because Grandma Myrna always has the table (and 3 other tables, and both the freezers, and the counters, AND the cold storage room/former playroom) right FULL of baking.  I am not kidding.  It is awesome.

This Christmas played out a little bit different than I had expected...

It was supper time and we all filled our plates right full.  Everybody ate until they were full to the top.  The boys went back for seconds but made sure to add extra mashed potatoes (a family favourite).  The food all looked and tasted SO good.  I ate what was on my plate (which was less than normal and significantly less than what most people were eating).  I wasn't trying to be rude by not eating very much but I truly wasn't hungry.

My mind was telling me yes but my stomach was telling me no!

 I didn't have any dessert and I didn't have any goodies as the night went on.  The next morning I tried to eat breakfast (which I usually sleep through and miss anyways) but I got really full right away and didn't feel great.  I concluded that I just wasn't used to eating breakfast, therefore, my stomach was trying to adjust.  I tried again at lunch, still couldn't eat.  I tried not to make a scene as I nibbled away at this and that, feeling instantly bloated and sick.

It wasn't until we went to Eatonia to celebrate Christmas with the other side of the family that my eating patterns became noticeable and concerning.  My Grandma Colleen makes tons of appetizers for our Christmas meal: surprise spread, chicken wings, rollups, shrimp ring, spinach dip, etc.

I love appetizers.  Chicken wings are actually one of my favourite foods so obviously, I was excited to dig right in! But instead of getting sauce all over my face while filling my tummy with the delicious honey garlic chicken wings, I grabbed the smallest plate I could find and put two wings and a couple of crackers on it to eat.  My Mom and Dad both shot me looks that translate to "Tianna, smarten up!" but I couldn't help it.  I just wasn't hungry.  I couldn't even finish what was on my plate before feeling gross and over-the-top full.

Basically, my whole Christmas consisted of me being hungry, staring at food, watching other people eat, and getting told to eat more.  I wanted to eat so badly.

Despite my troubles with eating over the break, I thoroughly enjoyed seeing the family and having time off of school but unfortunately, all good things come to an end and I was headed back off to the city for Semester Two at U of S.

My grandparents & I

I attended my first day of classes, missed the second day due to an upset stomach, and spent the majority of the following day at a walk-in clinic on 8th Street.  By the time Friday rolled around, I was ready to go home and see if I could kick this stomach problem.

Again, my life decided to take an unexpected turn.  I knew my platelets had dropped to about 15 the previous week but Dr Pearson said, "If you're not worried, I'm not worried" and I wasn't because it wasn't out of the ordinary for me to be low and it really just wasn't a good time to be treated.  Saturday evening rolls around and Mom looked me over, checking for speckles and bruising.  Everything remained the same.  Mom then went to the 5:00pm church service.  She was back home within an hour and a half.  In that amount of time, my symptoms got significantly worse.  I had petechia everywhere.  My sweatpants bruised my legs... aaand my butt looked like it had been majorly scratched (from pulling my pants up).

"Oh my God. You are very low.  Pack a bag, we're going to Nipawin Emergency Room right now" stated Mom

Once we got to the ER, I was taken into an assessment room right away.  We did not wait long before someone came to see me and get the lowdown on my case.  I had hardly even started to explain my ITP history when Mom enthusiastically says,

"Look at her butt! Tianna show him your butt!"

So yes, he saw my butt.. along with every other person that happened to walk into the room while Mom was there because I was just so 'fascinating'.

Anyways, after I mooned a bunch of people, the lab technician came in to take my blood.  (Shout out to my future cousin-in-law Veline Griller for being awesome.  I'm a really tough patient, especially when my counts are as low as they were).  After she took my blood, we waited and waited.

Platelets - 2 - LL

This was the second lowest I had EVER been.  I was admitted right then and there for a two-night hospital stay.

To back up the bus just a little bit, when I was treated the previous time in my grade 11 year, Dr Sinha took extra tubes of blood for general testing before giving me the IVIG treatment.  The reason for testing before a treatment is that the IVIG is a blood product so it masks what your system is actually producing or carrying with whatever is carried in the product.  It takes approximately 6 weeks before the blood product is completely cleared out of your system.  Anyways, I found out two important things:

1. My blood type is A-, the second rarest type
2. I am IgA deficient

No, not the IGA grocery store.  I was confused too.  Our blood's plasma carries multiple different types of antibodies.  I don't have any IgA antibodies, making me IgA deficient.  This is extremely important because IVIG is a blood product and I need the type of IVIG that has the lowest concentration of IgA so that I don't have an allergic reaction.  I had always been treated with Gamaguard IVIG in the past because it was the type with the lowest concentration but because it has a bunch of different parts of blood combined from multiple donors, it is impossible to know for sure if it contains any IgA.  I always just hope for the best which has so far worked for me.

Nipawin hospital didn't carry Gamaguard IVIG but they did carry Gamunex IVIG which is the next best thing.  We discussed it with Dr. Pearson who approved the Gamunex IVIG and I signed the blood consent, fully trusting that this product would work as well as Gamagaurd IVIG has always worked for me.

Due to me arriving so late at the hospital, my treatment finally began at around 1:30am and continued for about 3-4 hours although I don't remember much because the medication they gave me through the IV before the Gamunex made me fall asleep almost instantly.  I do remember being thankful that there weren't any traumas that night because I was put in the trauma room in the ER as they were shuffling rooms around.  By the time I got my room, I was already done the first part of my treatment.  The next treatment was to start 24 hours after the last one started so I waited in the Nipawin hospital all day doing nothing but watching Netflix and snapchatting my boyfriend.  At around supper time, Janay agreed to go to the Venice House and get me some honey garlic chicken wings because I was craving them SO badly.  Like I said in a previous post, ITP lows make me extremely hungry but this time I couldn't eat because of my stomach acting up.  I ate about three chicken wings and looked at Janay, helplessly, and said,

"I'm full... I really can't eat another one, I might burst"...

Janay & I

"Tianna eat another one."

I nibbled at another one before insisting again just how full I was and getting up to go to the bathroom.  The wings were really good but I still just could not eat.  This was extra frustrating when my appetite is so big.

Eventually, my next treatment began and ended.  My blood was drawn the next day and I had gone up from 2 to 11 to 37.  Again, I was not happy.  I got released Monday morning, giving me time to get home, pack, and head back to the city for university again.  Mom was wary of letting me go back because of how unpredictable my platelets had been so she insisted on coming with me and staying with me at least for that week.  She helped me with cooking and cleaning and was willing to come to classes with me if I absolutely needed someone.  I felt much better and didn't seem to have any complications with my treatment.  I mentally noted that I didn't even get a headache that I usually get after an IVIG treatment.  

I had NO idea what I was in for.

Mom and I crawled into bed to watch Netflix for an hour or so.  At around 11:00pm, I got up to brush my teeth.  I remember standing in my little bathroom, in front of the mirror when I felt as if I was turning to stone.  Every single muscle in my entire body felt like it was hardening under my skin.  I called Mom over and asked her to feel if my muscles were actually hardening, to see if she could tell. She gently placed her hand on my shoulder and I screamed out in pain.  She tried another spot, the same reaction.  She got me to lay down on my couch while she asked me a few questions, like any nurse.. I mean, mom, would.  In the process of that, my jaw started trembling uncontrollably.  It made me giggle a little because I was nervous and had no control over what it was doing.  I looked like a child who stood outside in the winter time too long.  This stumped nurse Carlene, which lead to a call to the Healthline (811).  Mom explained my history and what was currently happening but they insisted on speaking to me.  They asked me the same questions and got the same answers then promptly said,

"Go to the nearest emergency room right now"

So my Mom repacked my bag (in about 30 seconds) and off we went to the RUH Emergency Room at around 11:30pm.  By this point, my whole upper body was shaking and trembling.  I was wearing a sweatshirt and Mom said that she could see the muscles in my abdomen moving around, making my stomach look like it was fluttering.  After sitting in the waiting room chair for a long time, the trembling relaxed but did not stop.  Eventually, around 3:30am, we were called to a different section where we waited to see the doctor on call.  I stood up and walked down the hall to that waiting room.  Just that small amount of walking was enough to make my whole body tremble and shake all over again.  A lab technician took me into a room to take my blood.  He was the third person in 9 years of needles to get blood out of my right arm.  My counts were still up higher than before and everything else came back normal.  I had to give a urine sample as well and similarly, everything came back normal.  The doctor finally called me into the assessment room.  We gave him the details of my situation and he was getting ready to do a physical assessment. He barely touched me and I was screaming in pain, worse than previously that night.  His face said all we needed to know: he was stumped which led to a call to Dr Peason (again).  Together, they decided that it was likely just a reaction to the blood product they gave me and that I would have to wait it out until the worst of the reaction is over.  

Mom and I arrived back at my place at around 5:30am, absolutely exhausted.  I crawled into bed, wincing in pain with every movement.  The pillow hurt the back of my head.  The sheets made my back and legs ache.  The blanket was unbearably heavy.  Everything hurt SO bad.

Always needing my mommy

Then the part that scared me more than I can even say... Mom had to somehow crawl into her side of the bed without moving a blanket, sheet, or pillow, and without making the bed shake at all... I was impressed because Mom isn't the most graceful person, but she got in without causing me too much pain.  The next part I was worried about was if she rolled over in the night or accidentally kicked or touched me in any way because I could not handle any contact.  My muscles were so tense.  You know how it feels after you do a really good work out? It was that type of sore... x100000000.  We woke up about 4 hours later because I had a much-needed appointment with Dr Pearson at City Hospital at noon.  Fortunately, he spent two hours with us, discussing everything and trying to get to the bottom of what was happening with my body.  

Up until this point in my life, my symptoms and counts had been so predictable.  I would always fall in the Fall, around October or November.  I would get petechia on my lower legs and have more random bruising on my arms and legs.  My symptoms were so consistent that I could literally guess a number and be within 5 of what my count actually was.  Everything was changing now.  I couldn't predict anything and I was dropping at random times.  

Dr Pearson also tried to give me a physical assessment with little to no luck because my muscles were still so tense.  The major thing to look for in an ITP patient is an enlarged spleen.  I often give Dr Pearson a hard time when he tries to feel for mine because it either tickles causing me to laugh or I am too sore to be touched.  On a side note, before I was released on Monday morning, I had an ultrasound for my spleen which confirmed that my spleen was enlarged which is what we thought was causing my appetite loss.  Often if a spleen is enlarged, it pushes on the stomach, creating unwanted pressure which can affect one's appetite.  In this particular situation, he was unable to feel for my spleen because of my condition but we did schedule a follow-up ultrasound to check things out.  He agreed and concluded that I reacted to the blood product they gave me.  We were unsure of why though.

Was it because it was Gamunex instead of Gamugaurd?

Did it contain IgA?

Was the rate of infusion too fast?

Was the dosage too high for my body weight?

There were multiple factors that could have caused my reaction.  Dr Pearson told me that he has seen tons and tons of reactions but none quite like the one I was having, which sparked a little more interest in my case.  He told me to alternate between 600mg of Advil and 600mg of Tylenol, every two hours.  

The next day, my muscles began to release a little bit but I still could not be touched.  Then, the headache hit me and it hit me hard.  I was maxed out on painkillers and they didn't even dent the pain.  The pain was so strong that it made me vomit uncontrollably for a few hours.  I remember crying to Mom,

"I just want to be knocked out"

Mom spent hours phoning different hospitals and offices trying to get ahold of Dr Pearson because this all started to happen right at the noon hour when every office is on lunch break.  We finally got ahold of him and he said that there was a different medication he could prescribe for me but it would make it much worse afterwards, meaning that it would help now but make me even sicker after the headache is gone.  Finally, I found a comfortable position, next to my pail, and fell asleep for a few hours.  In this moment, I learned that counting backwards from 100 by sevens does, in fact, work.  This nap was much needed because my headache wasn't nearly as powerful when I woke up.  

At this point, I had still only been to one or two of my classes and I was almost three weeks in.  I was stressed out about being this sick and I was beginning to get more stressed out thinking about all the homework I was going to have and how on earth I was going to catch up and be prepared for midterms that were approaching quickly.  That's when Mom popped the question,

"Tianna... do you remember the last time you have actually felt good and rested?"

"No, I can't remember"

That was all she needed to hear.  She called Dr Pearson and asked his opinion and he fully supported/encouraged me to follow through with what we were thinking.

I needed to move home and be with my family and get better once and for all. 

Or I could go back on vacation...

This was a really difficult decision because it truly felt like my ITP had defeated me.  I had been fighting for so many years, working as hard as I could to live my life and be successful despite everything that comes along with an autoimmune disease holding me down.  ITP has been a tough battle but I seemed to be in the lead for so long until this year.  Everything was falling apart.  I was embarrassed to tell people I dropped out of university because all throughout high school I had a 95%+ average.. I am capable of achieving things if I put my mind to it and work hard.  This reaction though, made me feel hopeless.  ITP really was in complete control of my life and now I'm just waiting to figure out how to take control again. 

Since this, it has been a waiting game.  I go for weekly blood work to monitor my platelet levels.  I haven't been able to get a job or do any extra schooling because my ITP has been too unpredictable to make an honourable commitment.  But don't worry, my battle with ITP is not over and this story has more to it.

Here are a few things I have learned:

1. I'm not a morning person...at all
2. I really like honey garlic chicken wings
3. Grandma Myrna has enough food to feed most of Carrot River and she likely won't turn you away if you stop in (10/10 would recommend Grandma Myrna's Coffee Shop & Bakery)
4. Just because your Grandpa Colin and Dad think that you have an eating disorder does not mean you do.. why on earth wouldn't I eat my favourite foods?!
5. Getting hospitalized in between finals was a super bad idea
6. I have become satisfied with final marks that are in the 50's.. a pass is a pass, my friend
7. If you ask any of the Nipawin Hospital staff if they've seen my ass, the answer is probably yes.. Thanks for that, Mom
8. Mom is really good at getting whatever food sounds good to me because at that point, we were desperate to get anything into me while we could
9. On another note, Mom is not capable of getting the inside fudge part of a DQ ice cream cake at 11:00pm.. unfortunately
10. Grandpa Dan likes ice cream almost as much as I do, making him the best person to have a milkshake with
11. My reaction was brutal.  I would rather die than go through that again.
12. I am capable of sleeping 18 hours a night for multiple nights.. a sick girl needs her rest
13. I have THE BEST people in my life

Even though there is more to my story, I'd like to thank Mikayla, Rachel, Rayna, Grace, Kaden, Shanelle, Eric, Ellie, Freya, Erin, Josh, and Miranda for taking notes for me and helping me to get my assignments in on time when I wasn't able to be there.  I'd like to thank all my family and friends for being so supportive and understanding. Above all, I'd like to thank Dr Pearson, Dr Sinha, all their amazing staff, and everyone in the health field that has helped me with my ITP in the last 9 years.  Also a huge shoutout to my parents for being there for me 110% and always pulling strings and doing everything you can to support me in every single way.  You guys are all amazing and I honestly could not have gotten to this point in my life without you.  It's truly incredible how supportive the people in my life are and how crucial that has been to my recovery.  I can't fight my ITP battle alone.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart!

Although my journey is not over, and maybe never will be, there is still more to my story.  This reaction was me hitting rock bottom.

I can only go up from here.

Your fragile friend, Tianna

Take the Risk

Fast forward to February of my grade eleven high school year.

June of Grade 11

Everyone's biggest worry was if they were going to have a valentine for the upcoming Valentine's Day.  The second semester was in full swing.  I was so focused on my classes that I almost didn't notice the speckles beginning to accumulate on my lower legs and ankles.



Here's the drill:

"Mom! I have speckles!"
"Let me check you over"
"Ugh fine"
*out comes the flashlight*

We concluded that these symptoms fit the "as needed" criteria for bloodwork, as stated on my standing lab requisition that I'm sure most 16-year-olds don't carry with them wherever they go...


We were right.  I was low.

Platelets - LL - 10

By this time, I was getting used to how these types of situations played out:

Symptoms, bloodwork, results, hospital, IVIG, more bloodwork, go home, repeat.

We loaded up the van the next morning and went to Nipawin.  Because my counts were at 10, Dr Sinha wanted to know my count the next morning to see whether I was dropping lower or increasing. In pediatric ITP patients, treatment is administered when patient's platelets are less than 10 (10 000)... so when I was exactly at 10, it was touch and go.

The bloodwork in Nipawin proved that my platelets were heading in the wrong direction.

"Platelets, could you please make a U-turn and try to go in the right direction?" I thought

Platelets - LL - 8

Although I only dropped 2 platelets overnight, I was in the treatment range, therefore, we continued our trek to Saskatoon Royal University Hospital which was going to be my home for the upcoming days.

Jamie & I

My ITP symptoms are quite fluent.  Petechia, random bruising, fatigue... and hunger.  I get SO hungry.  As most people know, I can't usually eat a lot.  I can eat the typical lunch and supper (occasionally breakfast but I usually wake up at noon due to the fatigue anyways) and snacks throughout the day.  This day was no exception.

Breakfast - Tim Horton's pulled pork panini + fruit smoothie
Lunch - Tim Horton's grilled cheese panini + donut + frozen lemonade
Lunch #2 - Red Lobster... The Ultimate Feast + biscuits + caesar salad
Supper - Ribs + fries
Supper #2 - Hospital meal
Evening snack - Ice cream with Jamie

My parents couldn't believe how much I could eat.  Even after that, I wasn't completely full.  I just got cut off for some odd reason..  Anyways, my tummy was (almost) full and I was ready to battle my ITP.

Dad prefers MY hospital bed over the chairs..

This episode was quite uneventful.  Everything ran smoothly and my platelets were heading upwards.  Now this time I was slightly disappointed that my platelets decided to cooperate so quickly.  I could've used an extra day.. or two or three.. to stare at the very attractive male nurses and med students that were taking care of me.



At one point there were two very attractive guys in the room beside me.  Fortunately, they were standing on the other side of the window so we could see them clearly.  I was a little too far to the left to get a great view like my mom had in her chair.  When I turned to talk to her, I saw her lower her phone and snap a picture of them through the window.  I didn't even ask her to do it.  Proud daughter moment.

Anyways, my platelets were back to a safe zone and we were ready to go home.

***

Just when I get through one battle, I'm onto the next one.  Shortly after my platelets crashing, we got a call from a surgeon notifying us that I got a surgery date for my jaw.  I had an underbite as a kid which led me to braces at a young age.  Unfortunately, I wasn't done growing, therefore, the final result of my braces altered and shifted.  I was unhappy with my smile because some of my teeth were behind, and some were ahead.  They didn't line up properly.   We walked back to the orthodontist's office and decided to go with the other option this time: braces and jaw surgery.  To put this into perspective, I went to ortho for the first time on February 8th, 2007.

Jaw surgery - August 16th, 2016

Of course, my platelets had just fallen not too terribly long before and we had no idea what they were going to do.  They really do have a mind of their own.  We were worried about how they would hold up during this major surgery.  Platelets have a HUGE role in any surgery and anything that needs to recover.  If I go into a surgery with low platelets, my chances of bleeding are higher and my chances of clotting are lower.  Between my hematologist and surgeon, they created a game plan specifically for my case.  I was given tranexamic acid which is a pill that helps healing and prevents bloodloss.  Despite not being able to eat or drink anything past midnight, these pills were an exception.  I was to take them the night before, the day of, and three days after my surgery to minimize the chances of me bleeding excessively during surgery.  Due to me needing to take the pill for three days after, I couldn't have my jaw wired shut.  Instead of the wire, they elasticised my jaw.  This totally sounds like I had it easy because elastics are stretchy but there was no way my jaw could open any further than enough to swallow my pill.  Luckily, everything went as planned and there were no complications.  I did learn that if you leave an open bag of popcorn twists out overnight they will get stale, making them easy to flatten.  When they were as flat as they could go, I could slide them in through my elastics and let them melt on my tongue.  The texture did not apply to me because of the state I was in and I tell ya, having something that wasn't blended up was a magical experience.  Throughout my surgery and recovery, my platelets stayed reasonable and cooperative, thankfully.

 My 2016 year was quite hectic regarding my health but looking back, I consider myself lucky.  My jaw surgery was, and still is, one of the biggest, most life-changing events to ever happen to me.  There was so much that I didn't know going into it.

Would my platelets get me through?
Would I wake up?
Would I bleed to death?
Would I look ugly?
Would I regret changing how I look?
Would my recovery be okay?

SSLC billet group

I was scared shitless. But I didn't want anybody to know.  I texted "I love you" to all of my family and friends that weren't there with me before I went into surgery.  I really was unsure of what was going to happen to me after I walked through the doors to the OR but everything turned out okay.  It was a big step to adjust to what I now look like.  I spent a few months after my surgery looking like a Dr Seuss character called a "Who".  Certain muscles in my face were still healing, leaving me looking slightly odd.  My mom still told me that I looked cute.  

My ITP really does determine the path my life takes.  My platelets and I are an unpredictable team but we manage to make 'er through everything.

I think it's time to share a few more things I learned from this experience:

1. Jamie Kowalchuk is the best at bringing snacks
2. Hot med students are really the key to getting better
3. Don't look in a mirror the day after you have jaw surgery... 
4. If your dad says he invented a new kind of soup, it's likely the fish and rice that they had for supper blended up
5. Popcorn twists will become your favourite food if you can't eat anything else that is solid
6. It is possible to watch seven seasons of Greys Anatomy in two weeks
7. Don't even try to eat a Smokie at SSLC, your jaw is not healed enough.  Just pack protein drinks in your backpack for later
8. Get yourself a mom who takes pictures of hot guys for you and you're set for life
9. It is totally acceptable to eat 5 meals a day when you have low platelets
10. I am fragile, not sick.  This is when I started using that term to describe my ITP

Most importantly, I learned that it is okay to be scared.  In all fairness, like I said in my first blog post, I don't like change at all.  My jaw surgery was a permanent change that was literally changing the way I look forever.  It's safe to say that I took a huge step outside of my comfort zone and I'm so grateful that I did.  Don't be afraid to take risks.

Your fragile friend, Tianna

Setback

Life was good and everything seemed back to normal.

Summer of 2014 was finally here and we could only think of one, really great way to spend it: Carrot River Landing.

We packed the truck up and hauled the boat behind, making sure we didn't forget the tube, our water skis, or the fishing bait.  Phone chargers were left at home because when the Schmaltz family camps, we "rough it".

No power.  No cell service.  No running water.

Yes, we survived.  When we weren't on the lake or around the fire, we're playing endless rounds of UNO or Skipbo, outside with the volleyball, or challenging each other to a game of Checkers or Chinese Checkers.

Livin' my best life!

As long as it's not too windy outside, my family is on the lake, taking in all the water has to offer.  If it is too windy... steer clear of dad because everybody that knows him knows that he HATES the wind.  Fortunately, we were able to take the boat out onto the water.  After a few hours of fishing, I convinced my dad to let me go for a ski.

"Please dad, I'm tired of fishing, can I ski?" (I wasn't even fishing anyways...but eating chips was getting boring)

After cutting in and out of the wake a few times, my back was starting to feel stiff, but then it began to hurt, really bad, causing me to let go of the rope that connected me to the boat.  I sat in the water while my dad looped around to get me.  I convinced myself that I was good to go for another round...which was a bad idea but fun while it lasted.  After this, I was really sore and blamed my back pain on that.

I told myself over and over that I would just get better tomorrow.  But tomorrow became the next day which turned into the next month.  The pain continued to bother me.

My family went on a two week road trip to Nanaimo, British Columbia later that summer.

1981 kilometers = 22 hours

The trip was long but it felt like it took forever.  Our equinox's seats did not do magic on my mysterious back pain but seemed to do the exact opposite.  No matter what position I moved my body into, nothing eased the pain.

Laying across my sister in the back seat? No.
Sitting up like a normal human? Nope.
Slouching enough to put my feet up by dad's head? Distracting and painful.

I resorted to sitting on pillows which didn't really fix anything but felt better than anything I had previously tried.  Don't get me wrong, B.C. is absolutely beautiful and my back pain did not stop me from experiencing the unique wonders of this astonishing province.  I did not let anything hold me back from swimming in the ocean, picking peaches, feeding kangaroos, or climbing in waterfalls.  I ate way too much ice cream, peaches, and seafood, leaving me with my back pain AND a tummy ache!

School started back up early in September.  I was just beginning my grade ten school year, nervous and excited.  I joined the Senior Girls Volleyball team and began to practice with them the first week of school.

I had a love for sports and that numbed the back pain that I was experiencing.  I carried on and pushed through the pain which seemed to become more difficult to ignore each time I exerted myself.

"It's nothing," I thought, "I'm just sore from practice and it'll go away"

The second week of being on the team became the last week of my entire high school volleyball career.

Monday, September 8th, 2014
Everybody knows how dreadful Mondays are but I had no idea just how bad mine would be.

I woke up (after at least more than one wake up call) and got ready for school.  Because my dad coaches the football team and runs practices before school, Janay and I would either quad or drive 'Old Pam' on the trail across the field to my grandparents' house where the bus would come to pick us up.  After school, Janay had volleyball practice so I went on the bus to Grandma's house.  September is a busy month for my family because not only is there dance, football, and volleyball going on, hunting season was approaching.  I had strict orders to go back home after the bus dropped me off to practice target shooting with my compound bow.  Over the years, I have learned that my guide(s) can do just about everything... except make the kill shot so it was in my best interest to do my part and be prepared.

Once I got the target set up and verified the distance with the rangefinder, I was good to go.  My black and green release was snug on my right hand while my arrow was knocked into place.  My hair was pulled back and my shirt was tight to my arm.  I was set.  As soon as I pulled back, something went seriously wrong in my back.  It took everything out of me to fight the pain and follow through with the shot at the target.  I slowly walked to retrieve my arrow, hoping that my back pain would release but I had to stop and sit on the target.

My friend, Kristian, always used to tell me, "Tianna, I've never seen you cry!" If only he saw me at that moment.

I cried, releasing anger and pain with tears rolling down my cheeks.  I tried to continue with my target practice but this was a terrible lapse in my judgement.  The next shot confirmed that something was really, really wrong.

My back became steadily worse.  I went to the doctor and went for different types of testing.  It all showed that I had nothing wrong.  My back began to spasm uncontrollably.  At this point in my life, the only thing that helped the pain was a really strong muscle relaxant.

"Take 1 twice a day"

I took the first one of the day and 30 seconds later, I was sleeping... I woke up 18 hours later.  I decided that I couldn't take that pill twice a day or else I would be sleeping for the rest of my life.

I'm sure you're all wondering how this has anything to do with ITP and why I'm not just going to the chiropractor or taking Advil.  This is why...

"Go to the chiropractor," we were told by almost everyone who heard about what I was going through. People swear that they can fix everything almost instantly, which I don't doubt at all!  But imagine having approximately 15% of platelets that a "normal" person has.  Chiropractors aren't always gentle, or I guess I should say, as gentle as I NEED them to be.  If I were to go to a chiropractor with low counts, there is a high chance of me walking out with more damage (due to my ITP) than back pain relief.  So needless to say, chiropractors were not something we were prepared to risk in my particular situation at that time.

"Take some Advil!"
It knocks the pain right out after poppin' a couple 200mg pills.  I believe you.  But Advil and ibuprofen are medications that fall into the Anti-Inflammatory category.  They impair the action of the few platelets that I have.  Again, having low platelets, I need every platelet to be as sticky as possible.  Most of the painkillers that would really knock out my pain and reduce inflammation could take a toll on my platelets, causing more negative outcomes than positive.

Robax Heat Wrap

It wasn't easy getting pain relief.  I tried all sorts of remedies like ice, heat, back braces, Tylenol, stretches, and topical rubs.  I resorted to sleeping in a Zero Gravity lawnchair for quite awhile as it put more pressure on certain parts of my back, reducing the spasms.  I also went through a ton of Robax Heat Wraps.  In the end, I could only truly rely on those muscle relaxants for a bit of relief.  My mom decided that it would be best to divide the muscle relaxant tablets into many minuscule pieces because apparently, 18 hours of sleep is a little excessive and the teachers frown upon sleeping through class.

Lawnchair bed

I quit the volleyball team because being on the sidelines all the time became too difficult as I really wanted to play and it physically hurt my back to be sitting on the wooden bench.  I gave up dance because I was missing so much choreography that there was no way I would be able to catch up.  The rest of my school year was dedicated to finding answers about my back while hoping that my platelets were staying stable.

I started to go to physiotherapy to strengthen my back and work on exercises but the relief I would get from a session would last for a short time afterwards if I was lucky.  In the end, we decided that physio alone wasn't the answer.

At around Christmas time, I noticed that my left foot felt different.  It was heavy and not cooperating as well as I wanted it to.  The more I paid attention, I realized that it was numb... from my knee down.  I had no feeling which is why it was feeling like more of a weight than anything.  This scared the doctors, which scared me.  I was scheduled to have an MRI but that didn't pick up anything.

"Pinched nerve? Bulging disc? Tumour?"

I was scheduled to have an MRI and fortunately, it came back clean.  Over time, my leg regained feeling and worked properly again.  We went through the spinal pathway with Bourassa & Associates but remained without answers.  I was determined to play badminton, no matter what.  That determination led me to a sports therapist based out of Nipawin.  I hobbled into his office and the way he looked at me, I knew he was thinking, "this is bad".

Curt Cummings works magic.  I don't know what he did exactly, but he did something that fixed me.  I walked out of his office standing upright, without pain.  When I returned home, I took it upon myself to send snapchats to my friends of me, bending over backwards, in the mirror.  This might sound ridiculous but to put it into perspective, I hadn't been able to stand straight up in months.  I was hunched over since September... this was now April.  I couldn't even straighten my back, let alone bend it backwards.  This was a BIG deal.  Finally, I was getting some relief.

Although Curt fixed me, I still have chronic back pain.  There is absolutely no comparison to how painful it was back then, but some pain is always here.  I gave up all of my sports, except badminton.  But to play badminton, I still had to take part of a muscle relaxant (weaker strength) and Tylenol.  Additional to that, I had to rub Voltaren or A535 on my back throughout the day and wear IcyHot patches during games.  If I failed to do those things, I would pay for it.  I was never able to smash a birdie because my back restricted me from swinging properly.  My worst fear on the court was being flick served..which my opponents picked up on quickly.  Despite the pain and all that I put my partners through, we were successful.

Cameron and I played every season together from grade seven to grade eleven, medaling multiple times in NESSAC competitions.
Kyler and I played together in my very last season, making it to regionals.

Just like my ITP, I have not let my flawed back rule my life (for too long).  They are both a major part of my life and influence my decisions daily.  Both ITP and my chronic back pain restrict me from doing certain activities.  For example, I can't go sliding down Pasquia Park hill because my platelets are too low, my back isn't strong enough... and mom won't let me.

We never did find out exactly why my back flared up the way it did but we know that certain things influenced it:

• When I was a baby, I never crawled.  As a result, certain core muscles are undeveloped.
• I have mild scoliosis.  The muscles on the left side of my back pull and get strained more than on the right.
• When I fell in volleyball in grade eight, I jammed something in my hip that may have messed things up in my back
• ...and all the things that I'm sure didn't help (waterskiing, a 1981km roadie, and shooting my bow)

After this long write up, I'd like to share a few more things we learned:

1. Always listen to your body, even when it is inconvenient 
2. Just because something works for someone, doesn't mean it will work for everybody
3. SUV's are terrible for people with bad backs
4. My mom should stick to travel souvenirs like keychains and coffee mugs... not Monkey Trees (google it)
5. Being able to bend over backwards is a super big deal 
6. The second biggest part of a backpack is always "Tianna's Personal Pharmacy"
7. I am truly the most annoying person to travel with

Two steps forward, one step back.

Your fragile friend, Tianna

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

The Beginning

It's hard to believe that someone's life can be changed, altered, or flipped in just one day.  Little did I know that when I got my diagnosis, I wouldn't just be on the next page or chapter.. my life became a different genre, foreign to what I had ever known before.  If you know me well, you'd know that I HATE change.  Due to that, I have the same bedding on my bed from when I was just a toddler.  Still, to this day, nothing is more comforting than my white blanket covered in purple lilacs.  My mom would tell me that it's time to replace it because it's getting old and has nail polish stains on it... Personally, I think Janay's artwork builds character and gives it a unique look. With that one, minor example of a major part of my personality, you can imagine how clueless I would have been when I was experiencing "a weird rash" and "lots of bruising" that has never happened prior to this.  That was just the beginning.

The last of the bright, colourful leaves were hitting the ground in the final few days of fall.  My dad was busy with his 6-man football team as he held practices every morning before school, preparing them for the provincial run of the season.  His love of football radiated and became contagious.  I completely blame him for my obsession and love for the game.  According to my baby books, I had been to a provincial final in nearly all the sports before I was a year old.  I likely had no idea what was going on in any of those sports aside from football.  I was the pudgy baby on the sidelines that would raise her hands and cheer as soon as the Carrot River Wildcats would get a touchdown.. which was something my dad took pride in because his coaching skills were working on the field.. and off the field. 

It was late October when my dad was holding down the fort while my mom, who is a Registered Nurse, was away at a Diabetes conference in Montreal, Quebec.  Of course, as a nine-year-old, my biggest concerns were how on earth dad was going to do my hair (because it wasn't wacky hair day this time..) and what I was going to be for Halloween.  Those worries became the least of my problems.  I was new to the high school as a grade five student at the time when I noticed this really weird rash so I called my mom.  

"Is it bumpy?" No.

"Is it itchy?" No.

"Is it on top of your skin?" No.

She was puzzled and encouraged me to go to the doctor.  Although I had this "rash" and more bruising than normal, neither my dad nor myself were too terribly concerned because I didn't feel or look sick.  We actually decided that it was kind of interesting how my skin was becoming full of speckles.  That's when my little sister, Janay, decided to state her opinion on the matter. 

"Daddy, Tianna needs to go to the doctor.  Something is wrong." 

Of course, we knew it wasn't normal but we did not see the urgency until Janay, seven-years-old at the time, seemed so convinced and set on what the next steps needed to be.  Finally, we went to the doctor. My "rash" got the name petechia.  Basically, I had tiny blood vessels breaking under my skin. If you imagine dotting yourself with a red pen, that is what my petechia looked like.  My doctor ordered an urgent CBC (Complete Blood Count).  My results had the letters "LL" beside one of the counts...

LL - Platelets - 1

This meant that my platelet count was dangerously low and I was at an extreme risk of a potentially fatal bleed.  Most people don't even know what platelets are; I know that I didn't at the time.  Basically, the blood is made up of white blood cells, red blood cells, plasma, and platelets.  Platelets are what help our bodies clot.  They help to heal bruises and cuts.  When someone's platelet counts are low, they are at a higher risk for bleeding.  I didn't understand what the big deal was at the time because everybody will bleed if they cut their finger or pull out a tooth.  I learned that the biggest concern is not the external bleeding so much as the internal bleeding.  

Platelets are measured in thousands.  A normal person has 150 000 - 400 000 platelets (150-400).  I was at 1000 platelets (1).  This meant that a sneeze or a headache could cause my brain to bleed.  Fortunately, my doctors knew exactly what to do and how to treat me.  

Once we received those results, the game plan was made quickly.  No matter how many times the X's and O's got rearranged, this game plan did not make sense to dad, or anybody except the doctors.  Dad called my mom to tell her what was going on. 

"Tianna's templates are low"

"Templates??"

"Yeah... like she could bleed to death"

"OH! Platelets! Her platelets are low!"

Needless to say, my mom has a much better understanding and wider vocabulary when it comes to the medical field.  Dad and I packed a bag with some clothes, toys, and homework before we hopped into the little green car that was named "Old Pam".  The car got us from Carrot River to the Prince Albert Hospital.  Dad grabbed my bags and placed his hand gently on the small of my back.  I cannot emphasize enough just how gentle he was.  Honestly, I don't recall him even having his hand there because he was so gentle yet there was a bruise on my back, exactly where he had his hand, in the shape of his hand.  Hopefully, that will give you an idea of just how fragile I really was. 

I remember all the nurses and doctors busying around with other patients, weird noises, beeps on machines, children crying... just about everything you'd expect to see in the pediatric ward of a hospital. Then it was my turn.  The staff turned their attention to me and it was time for my IV (intravenous).  I had only had flu shots and immunizations prior to the bloodwork earlier in the day.  I didn't think anything of another needle because I had never had any issues.  Boy was I wrong. 

The nurses tried and tried and tried and tried to get an IV in me but nobody could get it.  I have a pretty high pain tolerance but by this point, I was hysterical.  I still have marks on my arms and hands from where they poked me that day.  Dad kicked everybody out of my room because he knew how much pain I was in and how scared I had become.  I recently learned that my dad had a similar experience when he needed surgery on his shoulder which explains why he acted the way he did.  About an hour later, the staff came back to try again.  As soon as I realized, I hopped up off the bed and ran into the bathroom in the room and locked the door.  There was no way I was getting poked again, I thought. 

Eventually, a nurse named Cagey got my IV into my right forearm.  I named my teddy bear after her. At the time, she was my hero (next to my dad who tried to save me from them). 

The rest of my stay at that hospital was kind of a blur.  I remember how difficult it was to do my homework because I couldn't use my dominant right hand.  Believe it or not, my dad wouldn't do it for me even though his dominant left hand worked perfectly fine! My sister and grandparents came to visit the next day.  Janay made sure that she found my DS and a bunch of games so that I wouldn't be too bored.  The best part about my hospital stay though was the ice cream they gave me at every meal.  Hospital food is "wannabe" regular food, in my mind, but ice cream is good no matter where you are or what time it is.  My mom came home from her conference and stayed the second night with me in the hospital, allowing dad to get a better sleep in a much comfier bed.

Bloodwork the final day showed that my platelets had responded to the IVIG treatment (Intravenous Immunoglobulin) and I was free to be discharged.  Although my platelets returned to the "safe" zone, I never reached the low end of normal and I am still yet to do that.  

After this episode, we learned a few things:

1. The body does not have anything called a template
2. The football team will survive if Coach Schmaltz leaves an intern and the drama teacher to coach a game
3. "Old Pam" can safely travel 179 km to Prince Albert.. and 179 km back home
4. Dad should focus on sports, mom can focus on health-related issues
5. Needles suck but being sick sucks more
6. Ice cream is the best medicine (I already knew that.. just proving my point)

Enjoying my ice cream!

I was diagnosed with ITP (Idiopathic Thrombocytopenia Purpura) and I am quite sure my response was, "English please??". 

Never in a million years would I have thought that the best way to describe me would be as "fragile".  

ITP is an autoimmune disease that has become chronic for me. Basically, my immune system is attacking my platelets because something has tricked it into believing that my platelets are foreign invaders. Nobody knows the why behind it. 

I am planning on writing about my experiences, what it's like to live with an autoimmune disease, and how ITP has impacted me as a way of sharing something that is kept in the dark and as a way of coping.

-Your fragile friend, Tianna