My ITP Story by: Ella Sophia Ellis
We can all have a habit of believing we’re invincible in some way or another. In particularly in adolescence, as a young fiery spirited child, full of unscrupulous energy and an innocent sense of the world, I felt this way. Growing up, I lived a pretty cush life, awesome parents, incredible family, great friends and a wealth of opportunities. But at the age of 8, my rollercoaster journey with ITP began, of which I am sharing with you today. I hope this piece, may provide some candid knowledge of life with ITP, and particularly through the perspective of an adolescent but also offer conjure an optimistic stance on ITP, for everyone to take from.
I vividly remember, most memories as a pre-teen living with ITP. I distinctly can recall, the initial adrenalin rush, of being taken to hospital for the very first time. Directly oppositional to my parents panic stricken faces, contrasted my excitement to have time of school, lay in bed all day watching day-time TV and eat an abundance of snacks, whilst being prodded and poked by perplexed doctors. However, my enthusiasm for a relaxed bed-bound hospital life, quickly dissolved, alongside my rapidly declining platelet count. At the age of eight years old, I began various courses of treatment, and my extensive bleeding episodes became more frequent. The dwindling moral of doctors, that as a young person I would ‘grow out of ITP’, came more infused with every unexpected hospital visit. By the tender age of 11, I had experienced possibly every symptom ITP, could hurdle at my frail body. Severe 6-hour nosebleeds, purple/red petechiae, continuous gum bleeds and mouth lacerations, and the best part- the beginning of my (Carrie horror-film like) menstrual cycle- the joy! Not to mention, the questionable extreme- bruises, that brought frequent, uncomfortable, conversations with schoolteachers, friends-parents, that left me floundering for an articulation of a disease, I did not even really understand myself. Meanwhile, I watched my parents emotionally struggle with the heart ache of being worried for their child. This ultimately hurt the most. I believe when you go through the motions of illness, even as small child, the power of your parents’ (loved ones) feelings, is deeply affectual. I tried my upmost, to keep upbeat, happy-go-lucky Ella, that had always been, previous to ITP, but my transfer to Birmingham Children’s Hospital after my local hospital became too puzzled by my condition, really hit a core.