I know, I know.  I haven’t posted in a very long time.

I got no excuses.  Shit happened that I could have posted (and of course, it’s all lost to the ages now, lost in the foggy, foggy recesses of my fat old lady head), and I didn’t.  I even thought about it – “This would make a good post,” and I didn’t. 

So why post now?  Two major things – I actually have been cast in a show (huzzah) and I actually have a very weird medical condition that has been hanging around for a couple years, and has suddenly gone into high (or maybe low) gear.

The show – The Wedding Singer.  I’ve seen it being done with lots of groups back in San Jose.  I never considered it, because I always figured it was full of sweet young things.  Well, turns out it is.  And one feisty grandma.  Perfect.  I can just base the role on my wonderful Grandma Harris and add a New Jersey accent.  Picture it, me talking to my grandson about “the sexual intercourse”.  Clearly a role written just for me.  We’re in rehearsal and I’m having so much fun.  Great cast, great staff.  Just a bunch of joy, joy, joy.

Okay – the other thing. 

Last week, the morning after our first read-through of the show, I go to have a blood draw done in preparation for my six-month follow-up appointment with my oncologist/hematologist nurse practitioner. 

Go home, get the results – and get a phone call immediately.  “We need you to come in tomorrow to do another blood draw and if it confirms the first blood draw, we will need you to come the next day and get a transfusion.”

WTF?

Some of you may remember my bout with low platelets, which were discovered when I got cellulitis in my left boob after our fat cat Berta scratched my tit (I swear, you couldn’t make this shit up).  At that time the platelets were around 59 (I think) – low normal is 150.  And I went to the chemo/infusion floor and had several rounds of iron transfusions done, because my iron was also in the toilet. 

Yay.  My platelets went up into the low 80s.  Good enough, I guess because nobody wanted to see me or follow-up for another 6 months.

Six months fast forward.  My platelets are at 27.  Not so good.  Hence all the brou-ha-ha.  Second blood draw, my platelets are at 26.  So next day I get two bags of platelets transfused.  (If you ever see a bag of platelets, you’ll think, “They definitely had to shoot the horse that stuff came out of.”  Ewwwwww. – but I didn’t have to drink it, just have it dripped into my arm.) 

Okie, dokie.  Friday, back at the oncologist/hematologist office.  Another blood draw.  I’m thinking, “This is stupid, I’ve had two bags of platelets.  You’re not measuring my platelets, you’re measuring someone else’s platelets.”  Actually, I didn’t just think that, I said it out loud to several people, because of course I did.

Except, my platelets are now at 18.

WTSF?

Not only did my body spit out all the new platelets, but it also got rid of a bunch more of my meager supply.  But hey, my iron is just fine! (But my red blood cells are ovoid, which I’m told is due to the underlying iron deficiencies I have.)

So now I got questions. Lots and lots of questions. 

Because my body did not react well to the transfusion, it is pretty much definitive that I have ITP – or immune thrombocytopenia.  It’s an auto-immune disease.  My body is attacking my platelets (and clearly winning).  There is no cure.  However, there are treatments.  It’s just a matter of getting my platelets back up (around 80 will suffice) and stabilized and then finding the right meds that will keep them up there. 

First line of defense – big ol’ doses of prednisone. 

Call me happy!  I LOVE prednisone.  My body thinks prednisone is speed.  I have so much energy when I’m on prednisone.  Bring it on!  (Of course, you’re not supposed to stay on prednisone long term; so they’re hoping it’ll do it’s stuff and then I can either wean off it or drastically reduce the dosage in one to three months.)

Second line of defense, immunoglobulin infusions.  IF my insurance will cover it.  And my experience so far with good old Blue Cross/Blue Shield (of North Carolina) makes me really nervous about that.  But we shall see what we shall see.

Like I said, there are no real symptoms.  I bruise really easily (I have a lovely bruise encircling my arm where they took my blood pressure the other day – and it wasn’t even one of those break the blood vessels painful kind).  And if I get cut or otherwise cause myself to start bleeding, or fall (and especially if I hit my head) – it’s “Get thee to the ER and tell them you have critically low platelets.” 

But really.  I’m fucking fine.  Leave it to me to have a stupid condition that has no fucking symptoms – oh, except sometimes fatigue (I’m 70, of course I’m tired 24/7); and oh yeah, be careful or you could bleed to death. 

I had to warn the theater people.  I hope they don’t want to boot me out of the show, because there isn’t a reason in the world why I can’t do the show.  I just have to be careful, and they have to be ready to drag my fat old platelet-less lady ass to the ER if need be. Did you ever have one of those lives?