Wake up call 

Every once in a while I need a reminder that my ITP is a chronic auto-immune disease, and that just because I feel well and full of energy and a functioning brain, I am not over it. I am not cured, because it’s an auto-immune problem for which no-one knows the cause. Since we don’t know the cause, we can’t eliminate it, and it’s probably exacerbated or mediated by various genetic and nutritional deficiencies I’ve had since birth. And so the problem of low platelet numbers will recur time and time again. I received a wake up call last week when my latest blood test showed an alarming figure of 17, three below the safety level my doctor and I had set for going to hospital. To be honest, the levels had been dropping over the previous three months, by about 50 percent each six week test, but we’d quietly ignored the decrease as my numbers were still high, and I was doing well on all the other counts – haemoglobin, cortisol, adrenals, liver function, kidneys, everything except my IGGs, which were still a bit behind.

At the end of April I had a flu shot, as winter was approaching with the flu season. Two weeks later I flew to the US (21+ hour flights each way) and had three wonderful weeks with my daughter and her husband in Boston, and three and a half fabulous days in New York. I paced myself, resting on every second or third day, and every day for a couple of hours in NYC, but other than that had a fantastic time, travelling, eating well, drinking cocktails, meeting new people, visiting museums, theatres and art galleries, and exercising once a week in their home gym.

When I came home to Sydney, I was tired but still high on pleasure, and apart from normal tiredness – no jetlag – felt fine. In fact I felt better than fine. I felt fabulous! A week later I had my blood test, and a phone call the next day from my doctor, concerned about the dreadful figure for my platelets. When I saw her, I assured I was feeling fine, that I had no spontaneous bruising (plenty of bruises from travelling, but I knew the origin of each bump and knock), and that my gums were only bleeding a little when I cleaned my teeth. We had a serious discussion about risk management, and agreed that I would go straight to A&E if I had any fall, trauma or was knocked down in the street. As before, the risk is invisible but serious – internal bleeding, especially into the brain if I had a head injury.

Since winter had already started, and although we were enjoying milder temperatures than usual, early mornings were foggy and rainy, so I agreed to stop going to the gym for the next few weeks. Early morning is the best time of day for me to go to the gym, so I’ll just have to exercise at home for a while. No sense risking getting knocked down getting on or off a bus!

A week later and I’m rejoicing that I have a head cold. Violent, explosive sneezing, runny nose, slight temperature, mild sore throat. Nothing major, just a common or garden cold, an URTI, but it’s something to keep my immune system busy, so it leaves my platelets alone. No-one enjoys a cold, but I’m actually delighted this one has started. Next week’s blood test could show a nice increase in my platelets What the statistics from my three and half years of blood-tests show is that I need at least two episodes of illness – flu, stomach bug, heavy cold, migraines that leave me dehydrated from nausea – to give my platelets a chance to recover and bounce back to normal.

So here’s hoping that this week’s cold will do the trick. I don’t want anything worse. I had a bad stomach bug in late November that was absolutely horrible – vomiting, diarrhoea, shakiness for days – that messed up my plans for Christmas. But did bounce my platelets up to 146. If this cold works, I should have three to five months of good numbers before I need another infection. Bring it on! Meanwhile, pass me the tissues, I feel a sneeze coming…

Reasons to be cheerful

Apart from the happy memories, photos and new clothes from my holiday, the fact that I mostly feel well and have patchy but fairly regular freelance work I can do at home are very good reasons to be cheerful.  Living in a beautiful city with lots of cultural activities I enjoy with friends is a bonus!

I'm Still Here!

Earlier this week I received an email from John in Los Angeles. He had been recently diagnosed with ITP, and searching the web for information on his condition, found this blog. He told me he was grateful to have a patient’s view of the illness and how it has affected me. John, if you’re reading this, thank you for spurring me to write another update. Just remember, though, we are all individuals, metabolically as well in our personalities, so what works or doesn’t work for me, may or may not affect you the same way. But at least you’ll get some idea of the dimensions of this ‘orphan condition’ that so few people know about.

Quick Look Back

Four months ago when I last posted in, I was feeling a little sorry for myself thanks to a slight recurrence of adrenal fatigue, and the diagnosis of mild hypothyroidism. As if I didn’t have enough, what with arthritis, osteopenia (thanks to small bones and the weakening effect of prednisone on them), and eczema, aggravated by, but not merely caused by gluten-containing foods. So, I was having to remember to be strict about what I eat and drink, remember to take my iodine, Vitamin B12, folinic acid cordyceps, slow release Vitamin C, magnesium (to counter muscle cramps), plus my normal ‘seniors’ medication to manage my high blood pressure and cholesterol levels and strengthen my bones No wonder I was feeling a bit sorry for myself!

Since then, I’ve had an operation on one eye to remove a growth on the back of the retina, and tomorrow I see the optometrist to see how much my vision has improved, and hopefully, to choose new glasses. I thought the eye op, which involved a stay in hospital overnight, would bump up my platelet count. Anything that occupies my immune system usually gives my platelets a rest from being munched, but no! For three months I cruised between 60 and 50, as we cautiously dropped the steroid dose by 0.25mg. Then last month – bump – down to 44. Not really alarm bells (my ‘rush to hospital’ figure is 20), but enough to scare me.

Thankfully, I caught one of the nasty winter colds going round (even more thankfully, it wasn’t the flu), so last week my platelets were a magnificent 92, my PB for this year! How long they’ll stay up there is anybody’s guess, but it felt like I won gold!

Thin bones getting thinner

Dem bones, dem bones, dem thin bones: I had a two year bone density last week, and only today did I have the courage to read the report before I take it to my doctor. As I feared, two years on from my last test, and two and a half years of taking steroids, my bones are getting more fragile. I have a marked risk of spinal fracture and a moderate risk of fracturing the left femur. Not fun!

On the other hand, I’ve only been taking the Fosamax (alendronate sodium monohydrate) for six months, and I understand it takes a few months before there’s enough in my system to have an effect. And, on the plus side, I’m still going to the gym regularly doing resistance training, which builds up bone strength as well as muscles, and last week my trainer graduated me from the small gentle hydraulic leg press to the big one with real weights.

Feeling pretty good

Despite all this and the messy cold, I’ve been feeling pretty good for the past month or so. I have enough energy, most days anyhow. I walk, I spend time with friends, go to art galleries, concerts with them. I joined a creative writing class which has been real stimulus for my brain, socialising with other writers and learning from a great poet. Some of my writing has been recognised, with a short story being published in an anthology, Between the Sheets and a poem accepted for a university literary magazine, to be launched at a writer’s festival next month.

I think too, that I’m finally learning something about acceptance and gratitude. Certainly gratitude. I’m far more conscious of feeling that for simple things, even for having a good day, in a way that I didn’t before this illness struck. And most days I accept that on a good day I’m 80/80 (80 percent well, 80 percent of the time), but that I will have days when I’m only 50/50.

Reasons to be grateful

All of the above, plus

· glorious sunny winter days in beautiful Sydney (top pic)

· the port wine magnolia flowering outside my balcony (left)

Let's hear your story!

I’d really like it if other people reading this blog would comment on how ITP has affected them, what works, what doesn’t work, how they manage, and above all, how they keep cheerful. Let’s hear from others in our special little group!

On the See-Saw Again

Two weeks on and two more blood tests and my platelets are “behaving like the stock exchange” as my doctor put it. Up and down like a yo-yo.

Last time I posted, a fortnight ago, they had crept up to 34 from a scary low of 22. The following week they bounced to a magnificent 55, lifting my spirits almost as high.

Alas, this week’s blood test shows them back down at 35. However, thanks to my doctor’s meticulous tweaking of the Chinese herbs each week in response to my blood chemistry results, everything else in my system is behaving well, with all indicators sitting where they should be.

My neutrophils (white cells) might be a touch high, and busily munching on my platelets. But I’m not panicking, and neither is my doctor. We’ll wait and see what next week’s blood chemistry shows.

Emotional Highs and Lows

Despite that lovely number of 55, this fortnight has been a real emotional see-saw, with lows outnumbering highs two or three to one, and frequent mood swings every day. At times it has seemed like every hour. As soon as I pick myself up, some loss of control over my life – usually resulting from dealing with a health or welfare bureaucrat or real estate agent – sends me tumbling down again.

Some of this depression is directly from the steroids (depression is a known side-effect from long term corticosteroid use), but a lot is from the uncertainty of my financial situation and the frustrations of trying to find somewhere cheaper to live to match my reduced income.

The past two weeks have been laden with delays, frustrations and intense anxieties, and I have to say ‘emotional lability’ (a tendency to burst into tears with little warning) is quite exhausting. And in itself, quite frustrating!

This Week’s Bright Side

The big plus this week is that my energy and brain power are FINALLY coming back, thanks to the wonderful herbs which I’ve been taking religiously, twice a day, and the restricted diet, which I’ve been sticking to. I feel almost normal again and managed to do the 25 minute walk to my doctor’s surgery (it’s gently downhill), tho’ I had to catch a bus home again.

Another plus is that, with the help of my adult children, I’ve found a cheaper place to live in the same neighbourhood, and my friends and family will help me make the move in a couple of weeks.

And my lovely doctor took pity on me over the expense and utter lack of flavour and texture in commercial gluten-free bread and has allowed me to have a small bowl of porridge for breakfast again!

It’s a glorious Indian Summer Autumn here in Sydney. I can walk through my favourite park or just sit there in the sun, and for the first time in a long time, I’m feeling OK!

A Life Lesson Finds Me Grumpy

This week I’ve been faced with learning another of life’s lessons, and for all I ‘m trying to be positive, it’s left me grumpy and feeling sorry for myself.

A few days ago, I went to my local hairdresser to get my hair cut and to chat with the pretty girl who does it about options for colour, as the reddish purple I‘ve been using lately fades too fast in Australia’s strong sunshine. It also doesn’t suit my red, swollen pumpkin face.

This girl, Anna, has long blonde hair, and looks like an archetypal Disney cartoon heroine.

When I first met her, four months ago, she was lively and animated. This day, she looked tired. Knowing that she had, some time in the recent past, also been on steroids, I was complaining about how I hated them - how fat I am, how I barely have anything that fits me, how I hate my puffed up face and the lack of sleep, and the loss of energy, etc, etc.

Then she told me she was living with something like chronic fatigue, and that she frequently has days when an hour after getting up, she needs to lie down again, because she's exhausted. She had been working full-time at the hairdresser's, but has had to cut her hours back, as she's not strong enough, and has been advised to try to rest.

"I’m only 25, I don't want to be resting!", she said. Poor kid! I felt so selfish & egotistical! I vowed to stop complaining right there and then.

One Good Day, Two Bad Ones

But it’s not that simple, and I figure I can complain here, even if I keep my mouth shut in public. I know I’m not as sick as Anna, but there are far too many days when these blasted steroids make me feel as if I am! If I have one good day, in which I feel almost normal (as long as I don’t catch sight of my face in the mirror), it’s almost inevitable that the next, and often the one after that, will be spent lying on the couch, barely able to move or think.

For example, yesterday morning I went for a gentle walk before breakfast. I went to the big local park, usually an easy 10 minute walk for me. I didn’t push myself, but enjoyed stretching my legs and breathing the fresh air, and got to the duck pond in 20 minutes.

Then I sat for about 20 minutes, watching the birds, looking at reflections in the water, loving the trees around me, enjoying the sight of people walking their dogs. I walked slowly home, sitting at a bus stop halfway along for another rest break. I was home about an hour after I’d left and I was feeling good!

After breakfast, I took my steroid dose, and promptly lost one and a half hours to the shakes, palpitations and energy drop. I lay on the couch, wrapped in a sweater, and dozed.

About mid-morning, I felt it lift a bit, and went into my office to attempt some freelance writing. I managed about two hours, slowly, of writing and reading research, but by lunchtime knew I had to give up. The afternoon was spent on the couch - and there was no cricket to watch, the only daytime tv I like! My eyes were so blurry I couldn’t read, but I managed a little knitting, in between shivering and dozing.

Today is a little better. My brain is working at half-speed, so I can just manage this blog, but my energy is barely above couch level. And my positive attitude is having difficulty maintaining altitude.

I know I will get better. I know I will be off the steroids in another six weeks or so. If I’m lucky, the ITP will truly be idiopathic and never return, though it’s far more likely it will recur on occasion, necessitating some use of the steroids in the future.

Sadly, I also know from what Anna told me, that it can take at least two years after stopping before the steroid effects wear off completely and I resume my normal face and body. If ever!

Always Look on the Bright Side of Life

Ever since 'The Life of Brian', I’ve tried to live by that motto, as I’ve faced many of the life crises other women my generation experience – marriage breakdown, retrenchment, severely reduced income, some truly nasty things in my past needing to be acknowledged and dealt with.

Why should this health problem be any different? So, I’m going to sing along with Brian!