(The Big Red Haired Fox, Ana, keeps telling me that the blog gets more hits and visitors each month, so, I am upping the formula to readers and will talk to you as a whole from now on. Do not feel depersonalized on me now, I care about each one of you, especially if you are not a hit and runner.)
The idea of writing about the thick blood issue was seeded in my mind a while ago, but decided to hear another doctor’s opinion on the matter, before posting something. This last doctor confirmed some of my beliefs.
Most of the article’s content will be speculation, because my case was and it still is unusual and no doctor has been able to clearly state what the cause of the stroke was. As a result, I will write about what I believe happened (please, notice the emphasis). This article is a response to the many readers who insist that what happened to me was medical related (though they couldn’t point out any abnormalities), whereas, I believe it was something psychological. Yes, I know, the idea is hard to digest, but, please, do not underestimate ones power and desire for self-destruction. Some information from previous posts will be repeated, and some information is still a little too case-sensitive to be talked about. However, I plan to be as factual as possible and less dramatic. I suppose I won’t be able to completely avoid the drama, but I kindly ask you to leave your tissues inside your pockets. I do not mean to write this article to make you pity me or feel sorry for me. There are people all around who go through far worse situations than I did. But, through this post, I do mean to show that each one of us is unique and each experience affects and influences each individual in a different way. I would have accepted pity, if I were drooling and would have stared at the walls completely lost. I honestly feel lucky my sight and hearing are on pause and not my sanity (I admit, I have short moments of staring at the walls, but I don’t even know if the walls are there; sometimes Ana tells me that I stare at her … I made a promise to myself that if my sight comes back to me during the night, I’ll wait for Ana to wake up, lurking under the blankets, and staring at her in the creepiest way possible – sheesh! Now she knows, the element of surprise is gone). Getting some sight and hearing back would still make me a normal person. Whereas, getting some sanity back would mean I would still be a little insane. Anyways, it will be proved later that nothing extraterrestrial is happening inside my head and, in fact, most of what I feel makes sense.
Let’s see what this story about the thick blood is all about, ‘cause surely, it ain’t the red elixir that Eric and Bill drink succulently out of Sookie’s neck, while she shouts ecstasiated : “Ah!” and volunteeringly offers a gallon of her fairy blood to the Fangs per episode.
Șui Fang with Pink Elixir a.k.a. Grapefruit Juice
There is nothing sexy about blood. In fact, when people get blood tests, they will close their eyes or look the other way, instead of “enjoying” the view of a needle being stung in their veins. Some people will even faint. I know I nearly did, once, while in the hospital. The nurse nearly fainted with me, as well. Back then, my blood was clotting like crazy on the needle. And, since we are talking about hospitals and doctors and such, I will also add this: the post will talk mostly about feelings, because, physically, I felt very little pain.
Did you, guys, notice that when doctors ask a patient how they feel, they are actually interested in the changes in the patient’s physical condition. They will rarely care about emotions. They will rarely ask: “Do you feel sad? Do you feel happy?” They will only ask if you feel pain, itches and the likes. I believe doctors treat the body as a mechanism and they tend to forget about the human element. Of course, they will care a lot about your feelings, if you find yourself in the psychiatric ward (but, I don’t know, I’ve never been there, I am only assuming). Plus, how many of you guys exclaimed “ewww!!!” after spiting blood with toothpaste when brushing your teeth and washed away the disgusting sight in the sink with water.(I am told my gums stopped bleeding ten months ago) Examples can go on and on and on.
In any case, officially, blood is … a bodily fluid that carries necessary substances (such as nutrients and oxygen) and antibodies to the cells and removes metabolic waste (carbon dioxide, urea, lactic acid, etc) from those very cells. Blood is composed of blood cells , which are suspended in plasma. Plasma represents half of the blood fluid, it is mostly water that contains dissipated proteins, glucose and other dissolved nutrients and its main functions are to circulate nutrients and remove waste products. The blood cells are: red blood cells (they contain hemoglobin and transport oxygen); white blood cells (they are part of the immune system and their purpose is to destroy and remove old/abnormal cells and fight against infections and foreign substances); and platelets (these are smaller cells that help the blood to clot in response to broken blood vessels). Blood also transports hormones and signal damaged tissues, they also regulate the body pH and core body temperature. Blood is prevented from clotting in the blood vessels by their smoothness, and the finely tuned balance of clotting factors. The source of our information is Wikipedia.
If you didn’t know already, I hope you understand how vital blood is for our body. Earlier in the post, I joked about the blood being a red elixir, when in fact that’s exactly what it is for the body. As such, every malfunction and change in blood density can cause massive damage to the body of a living being.
Let’s ask Google what the possible reasons that cause changes in blood are, making it thick, like in my case.
Thick blood (also known as hypercoagulation) is a condition in which the blood is more viscous than usual. This means that the coagulation agents produce more clots than necessary, blocking the blood flow. These clots pose great threat, because they can travel in the arteries and the veins in the brain, heart, lungs, kidneys and other limbs causing stroke, heart attack and severe damage to the organs. As blood thickens, the circulation of nutrients, hormones and oxygen to the cells and tissues is hindered, resulting in widespread nutritional, hormonal and oxygen deficiencies. If cells and tissues don’t get what they need they start to die.
There are many factors that can lead to hypercoagulation and medical researchers have gathered them into two main categories:
– Acquired hypercoagulation: – the excessive blood clotting is triggered by the existence of another disease or condition (examples: smoking, being overweight, sedentary lifestyle, prolonged bed rest, pregnancy, cancer, birth control pills, hormone replacement therapy, heavy metal toxicity, car/plane trips, different types of infections, stress or trauma, etc.);
– Genetic (inherited) hypercoagulation: – the source of the excessive clotting is a genetic defect. These defects mostly affect the proteins involved in the clotting process or the substances responsible for dissolving the clots.
Common symptoms for people with tick blood are:
– abnormal thick blood when taking blood tests;
– slow bleeding when cut;
– overall nutritional, hormonal and oxygen deficiencies;
– repeated miscarriages;
– a family history of abnormal blood clotting,heart attacks, stroke or deep vein thrombosis, etc.
For those of us who are faced with any of these misfortunes (some of which we are responsible for), there goes a life changing stroke, heart attack, pulmonary embolism, kidney failure, deep vein thrombosis, peripheral artery disease or pregnancy problems. Sis has talked a lot about theory, hasn’t she? If you want to know more about these things, she will add useful links to different articles at the end of the post. Now it’s my turn to intervene, because I honestly find myself very little in the above talked theory. Plus, I said I’d talk about feelings.
A short medical history:
While trying to prove a theory, we would have to look closer to the circumstances. And I thought I’d better mention all the medical issues that I faced over the years: the usual vaccines you get as kids, colds, toothaches and childhood illness (smallpox and the likes). I had a very early period (tmi). I had a gastritis crisis, which left me a little sensitive to some food. On another occasion, I lifted a heavy box and had a sore back for two months or so. As a child, I also had double vision, so I began wearing glasses to correct the problem. Then, during my last year of high school, I hit my head into the bed’s frame and spent a day in the hospital to make sure nothing suspicious occurred (they made me do a CT scan). I was fine. Right before the final exams, I went through an appendix removal surgery. Over the next years, I went through a lungs scan (after cleaning the balcony during an incredible hot summer day, while a fan was ventilating cold air right behind my back). Then the usual visits to the ophthalmologist (I admit I didn’t wear the glasses properly; they were supposed to be worn permanently, but I didn’t because I didn’t like them.) Went to a visit to the gynecologist and was prescribed birth control pills. The doctor found a small uterine fibroid that the next gynecologist didn’t see. The birth control pills were supposed to partially treat this uterine fibroid. I had to take a blood test to be prescribed the pills and the results showed that my blood was fine. Then a last visit to the ophthalmologist before going to Ireland… And then the stroke. During the last years, I also suffered from painful headaches, because of the state of mind I was in. I have not had any headaches since the stroke. I must add that no one in my family, including grandparents and distant relatives, doesn’t or didn’t have any kind of rare blood disease or abnormalities in the blood. As far as I remember, I am the only one in my family that has suffered a stroke. People in my family have battled with infections of the lungs, diabetes, heart diseases and rheumatism. I guess the genetic causes can be eliminated from the equation.
Where the hack is the logic in all of this? Where were the symptoms for hypercoagulation hiding? Wasn’t I supposed to show some early signs, some physical changes? What kind of rare blood disease appears and disappears overnight? The diagnostic for a rare blood disease wasn’t officially given but only speculated. Also, only some of the doctors pined the evil on the birth control pills, whilst the others didn’t believe that the pills were the cause. I should add the fact that I took the pill for three months a year for three years in a row and felt no side effects. So, I am unsure whether they contributed to my hypercoagulation condition or not.
But what a powerful mechanism and your own worst enemy your mind can be! I keep saying I didn’t feel anything physically. But emotionally it was more than I could carry.
So, now, let me tell you a bit about my emotional history.
I’ll go briefly through the two decades of my life (wow, I am at an age where I can talk about decades?) and then we’ll go a little more Holden Caulfield over the last years of this so called autobiography.
I remember feeling happy and normal up until I was 8. Kids sense stuff. And I sensed that something was wrong when, during a whole winter, we had beans for breakfast, lunch and dinner. We moved a lot during childhood and we lived in Istanbul, Turkey, for almost a year … we had to put school on hold during that time. When returning to the country, my family and I moved in a 1 room … flat in an old dorm and lived there for 5 years. I remember most of this childhood bleeding my life out for half a month every month until I was 14 (again tmi!?, sorry about that, but you asked for it.) Then we moved into a rented 1 bedroom flat and began feeling approximately like a normal teenager, with the usual teen dramas, you know … ”I’m too short.”, “I don’t like my body.”, “Why doesn’t anyone notice me?”, “I want to go out more often.”, “I like this boy, but he doesn’t like me back.” … and so on. However, I grew up with a strong feeling of wanting my one space and wanting to belong somewhere. As much as possible, I tried to help my parents, so I became very creative with writing. I wrote to various influential people (including the vice mayor of Brăila) and got scholarships for my school achievements. I wrote to the local newspaper and got a temporary volunteering job. I even wrote to the former President, Traian Băsescu, to help a person I knew who was in deep trouble (by the way, they replied and told me that they couldn’t help because helping me would mean a severe breach in the separation of power). I even wrote to churches, especially before attending the national contest in Romanian language and literature and they helped me. This made a few people, whom I thought as friends, to call me a beggar. Sadly, some people do not realize how fortunate they are and that other people go through rough times and that a few of them will actually do something to change the equation, even if that means asking for help from the most unusual people and places. (I was once robbed; the thief doesn’t belong to this category of people) Please, understand from all of this bla, bla, bla the fact that I wanted to do something with my life and to have my own special place where I could be myself. So, this are the first 20 years of my life.
Let’s move on to more modern times, now, and see what the nutter Cătălina has been up to (just now, sis told me that I’ve had an adventurous life – I wish I had). Well, she went to college, just like most Romanian young people do. And that’s when the history of lies, deceit, suffering, sadness (I could carry on and on with the dramatic words) began. The next chain of events will be added in no particular order, since most of what I remember is a hurricane of (negative) feelings.
I was not far from the typical idealist youngster, who thinks the world is a piece of cake and believes that can conquer mountains. I set my standard bar very high and expected to much from myself and from people. I didn’t take into account that I was (am!?) very shy and socially awkward. The first year of college wasn’t so bad. I continued writing to people and tried finding something interesting to do. But, in a bigger city, competition is higher as well. Having guts and cojones is a must. You actually have to punch people in the face to enjoy a seat on the bus or sneak amongst the thousands of people waiting at the subway during rush hour to get to a class in time (the main theme from „Monk”, „It’s a jungle out there”, comes to mind). I won’t even go into talking about finding a decent job as a student with no work experience. Survival of the fittest.
Things really went south after the first year in Bucharest, after moving in with the boyfriend from that time. He was a heavy snorer. Heavy is too easy to describe the years wasted with him . So, I will replace it with horror. He snored so bad, that at times I thought he would choke and stop breathing and die next to me. He snored so bad, that, at times, I wanted to cover his face with a pillow. He slept like the dead, that every night it took 50 minutes of kicks in his butt to wake him up and make him change sides. He never bothered to take care of the snoring issue, because he never cared how much it was affecting me. As a result, I became a night owl. I would sleep in the mornings, after he left for work, and would live my life during the nights, watching TV shows and learning stuff about the internet. You probably wander why I didn’t ditch this guy earlier. I wish I’d know the answer to the question myself. He told me everyday that he loved me, while brutalizing and blackmailing me. Blackmail? Stupid things that stupid young people do and don’t want their family, friends and the world to know. I couldn’t leave, because he didn’t let me go (or so I thought at that time). People take their lives when they girlfriend/boyfriend break up with them. I held a razor blade in my hand for a whole day, while telling myself to do it or not to do it. I decided over not to do it because I thought that no one is worth such a sacrifice. This type of thought came back to my mind after the stroke, when the pain of having lost my sight was overwhelming. I was never left alone for more than 15 minutes and no available method I could think of would have done the job properly in that time frame. I even thought of variations and combinations, just like in crocheting. Seriously, ones mind can be very creative. But all of these would only have crippled me more and would have increased the suffering. The thought didn’t come back to my mind ever since and I am telling you about it because I’ve been at that bottom. The idea of such an easy way to stop the wrongs and the suffering in your life is very seductive. Not anymore, it isn’t. I would like to listen to one last song, preferably “J’arrete” by Ottilie, while having a particular type of dance with a stranger (something I find more intimate than anything else) before I die. I am only romanticizing death now and I am not expecting this event to actually happen, since I had already set the expectation too high once.
Anyway, I wish this was all I ever felt. But on top of all of this, I went through the disappointment of not finding my path. I’ve felt unloved, ignored and not taken seriously… And how about the numerous times I went out and people would pass by me without even looking at me as if I was invisible … I felt my family did not support me (Ana is huffing and puffing now, but that is what I felt then). Every time I complained about the rough times I was going through, all I was able to hear through the lines was: „But isn’t that what you wanted?” Slowly but surely I felt like I had to create another Cătălina, the happy, successful and the overachiever Cătălina, just to take people off my back. I’ve lied about nearly everything I’ve done over the last 5 years or so. No one saw anything … ever … because I hid myself very, very well. I preferred lying and suffering over hearing: „Haven’t we told you so?” And, boy, the type of lies I came up with. They were so complex and detailed that I thought lying was something pathological. It came way too naturally. Have you guys ever made scenarios and practiced the lines in the mirror to make it more believable? ‘Cause I’ve done that. Sometimes I’d be caught in the act, so, I’d have to come up with more lies on the spot to cover the first ones … Vicious circle …
While the fake Cătălina was flourishing, the other me felt lonelier and lonelier by the day. There were days I would have loved to talk to people over the phone, but, when going through my contacts list, I felt like there was anyone I could have talked to. Eventually, I broke up with the boyfriend after 5 years of misery and humiliation. The sleeping problems continued. I slept in shifts: ten days during the night, the next ten in the morning, and the last ten days of the month in the afternoon. The sleeping problem had a great impact over my eating habits as well. I never had a meal at the same hour everyday. I replaced water with Pepsi. Truth be told, I was surprised they didn’t find Pepsi instead of blood while in the hospital. There were times I would go to the mall and get myself crisps, salty sunflower seeds, popcorn, chocolate, 2,5 L of fizzy drinks, after which I’d go to KFC and order two menus of hot spicy wings and fried potatoes, then would return home and stuffed my mouth and belly with comfort food. Sometimes, I’d finish all these junk in a few hours, sometimes I would leave a little for the next day, sometimes I would spend the last money I had on this junk and not care that the next day I’d eat buttered toast. Many times I thought I would become overweight and that I would have heart issues. Such an ignorant, wasn’t I? No matter the outcome, blood was the one getting the short stick.
So, how come I was able to keep a job? You’ll wonder. I wasn’t. But I said I knew my ways around the internet, so I earned something but never enough to make me feel safe about the next day. For years I’ve been scared about what the next day might bring. My self esteem was so low, that at times I would paint my face with tons of make-up (even though I don’t actually wear make-up) and end up looking like this guy below to feel as cheap as possible and ridicule myself.
Feeling like The Joker
I take pride that I did not lose my sanity. But, now I believe I just got it back. Some of you suggested that I might suffer from chronic fatigue, but it wasn’t energy to do things that I lacked … it was mood that was missing. I wouldn’t get out of the bed for days, not because I felt tired or sick, but because I felt there wasn’t anything I could do. I seldom went out for a walk and when I did, it was to get myself more bad food. The sun seldom saw me. I said this before but will repeat it now: I’ve smashed glasses onto the floor, after finishing their contents … smart enough not to smash a glass full of Pepsi onto a wall, eh?! The anger was so overwhelming sometimes that I’d have a pillow fight with the couch (how silly is that?). I didn’t dare test my knuckles on the wall. I really did move furniture around at 4 in the morning and worse, when I got very creative, started building shelves for my yarn stash at 9 p.m. Sometimes, I would make French fries with fried eggs at 5 a.m. At times I’d go for a shaorma or a pizza at midnight.
I mentioned a bit about the uterine fibroid issue. But left the icing of the cake until now. When found, the doctor told me that I would face difficulties in having children and that I should try having one in 2-3 years tops. This was happening three years ago. The news hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt less of a woman. I did not want to have children at 24. But the doctor gave me a deadline and made me believe I was under the clock.
When I went to Ireland, I left some of these bad habits behind: finally put my sleep together, reduced some of the junk food I ate for homemade meals, I did not give up the Pepsi, though, and found a goal and something pleasant to do. I wrote extensively about it in “My soft spot for crocheting” series. But all the good changes were nearly not good enough. I still had a sedentary life and still felt unhappy for all the wrong, small reasons. I continued with the lies towards my family, just to assure them that I was ok and not have them worry for me. On top of that, I was in a second unhappy relationship, something I rarely talk about, because it was so unusual that I have to keep it a secret. In fact, all that time I felt like I was his dirty little secret.
I believe it’s time to talk about that great emotional shock that I often mentioned in my previous posts but never elaborated on it. So, here it goes.
Last year, on the 1st of November, 2013, I woke up in the morning just like any other morning, alone, in bed, as usual (he was a worse night owl than me). I went downstairs with the thought of a new crochet tutorial in my mind. I went to the computer room and found the person I was with in very awkward and embarrassing circumstances. My first reaction was to say: “I’ll pretend I didn’t see this.” That’s exactly what I got ever since. I left the room and went somewhere else. The thing obviously bothered me but he didn’t come to talk to me and simply went to bed. For a while, I had been looking for an excuse to leave and come back home. So, I did something of which I am not proud and looked through his computer. I found an incredibly intimate message that he wrote to another person a while back, but still during the time we were supposed to be together. It is surprising how this thing hurt less, since I was looking for an excuse to leave anyway. What hurt the most was the fact that I found myself very, very far from home, with no money, no support, utterly alone and a history of lies that I told to my family. For three hours I cried my eyes out, telling myself: “Cătălina, what the hell are you doing here? Do you honestly think there is nothing else in the world better for you? Is this really all?” It was heartbreaking. Have you, guys, ever had such a chat with yourselves? I am sure a lot of you have. Not everyone has a stroke afterwards. Signs of my stroke came shortly after. You can read more about how I had a stroke in my previous posts.
So, where is the genetics in all of these? Where is the rare blood disease again? How about that infection? How about the heavy metal poisoning? Have to add the fact that I never smoked, I only drank half a glass of champagne for the past 7 years on New Years and never took drugs. No traces of any of these were found in mys system, when tests were taken. My internal organs function properly. Since they couldn’t find any infection after testing me inside out for a whole month, they decided to generously offer me one a few days before leaving the hospital, none other then E.Coli, when I was put on probe (still battling to get rid of it). No doctor that attended to me cared about all this emotional baggage. What they thought means less, I am still talking about the emotional history, so, hold on tight, kids, ‘cause I’m not done yet. What I’ve said so far is child’s play in comparison to the stuff I felt while I was in the hospital and during the next weeks after, when my mind was set loose on the playground.
Have you ever felt anger? I have when no doctor listened to the story I told them and completely ignored the facts. How about frustration? I have. When nearly all doctors insisted that I had an infection, even though no signs of one showed in the test results. Have you ever felt desperation? I have. I was desperately allowed to walk around the room, instead of being chained to the bed through IVs all the time. I was desperate for a breath of fresh air. The only time I was able to have some air was when I was switching hospitals. The feel of snow and cold air on my skin were the only things that made me feel alive. Have you ever felt disgust? I have. When I couldn’t go to the bathroom like a normal young woman and had to eliminate all bodily fluids and waste in a bedpan. Have you ever felt utterly disgusted? I have. When I had an enema and when I was unnecessarily attached a probe and put in adult pampers. Have you ever felt shame? I have. When my body was exposed to the world inside and out, while I was the only one I couldn’t see it. How about embarrassment? That’s what I felt every time my father cleaned me after eliminating my bodily fluids. Have you ever felt fear? I have. When the nurses took blood from my legs because they couldn’t take from my arms anymore. They would say “Sorry, you are out of free slots on your arms. Have you ever felt confusion? I have. Because I didn’t feel as sick as the doctors thought I was. So, I didn’t understand why I had to stay in the hospital for so long, and especially in intensive care. Have you ever felt envy? I have. I was envious of the 80 and 90 year old people in the hospital that were doing better than I was. Have you ever felt empty? I have. When I was laying on the bed, unable to move, see and hear anything and feel nothing. Have you ever felt desire? I have. I lusted for a glass of water, instead of drinking it with a straw. How about panic? I have. When I thought that, if I was going to die, my family would bury a person they knew nothing about and they would find out who Cătălina really was from emails, old diaries and other people. Have you ever felt remorse? I have. While I was still unable to tell my family the truth, even though my life was depending on it, slowly, but surely, I freed myself from all of the lies. Have you ever felt hate? I have. I hated everyone who did an injustice to me and who, willingly or unwillingly, contributed to my suffering. Have you ever felt like you’ve given up the fight? I have. After I was moved from Colentina Hospital to the Institute of Neurology. The moment I felt I gave up the fight the real stroke happened and lost my sight completely. Have you ever felt terror? I have. When my family took me out of the hospital and, even though I knew I was in a safe place, on my side of the bed, and the people around me couldn’t have been any one but my mom, dad or sister, every touch on my skin, every shake of the bed, every loving kiss or caress on my forehead produced a shock in my brain and made my heart explode. Have you ever felt even more terror? I have. When no matter the direction I was looking at … right, left, up, down … all I was able to see was black (I don’t see black anymore) … and all monsters come from the dark. Terror is what I felt when every voice and sound around me was translated into drums and basses. All I was able to hear was noise. Have you ever felt relief? Salvation? I have. When I set on my side of the bed, after being released from the hospital, and Pufi The Yorkie jumped straight into my arms. And all my loved ones were around me. And I knew I was saved. Have you ever felt the need to hide? I have. When everything around me bothered me, scared me and made me suffer so much that I just wanted to run away and I hid myself inside my mind, blocking anyone and anything, including light and proper sound to come in. Have you ever felt all of these, one after the other, in a very short period of time? Well, that how my time in the hospital felt like. I am not asking if ever felt physical pain. I felt very little physical pain and this was a result of blood not flowing properly inside my brain. In fact, my hands were sorer because of all the needles. And yet no doctor cared about my state of mind.
Was I able to prove that the thick blood and the stroke were a result of a wrong lifestyle, stress and emotional turmoil? Well, that’s what I believe happened. I rest my case. I do not wish to fight with anyone about any other possible causes and stuff like that. I’ve accepted it as it is and I am moving on. I understand that people will tell me that only if I did something instead of another thing then … I am eliminating all the what ifs … and I should have done that … from my vocabulary. They cannot change anything. So, I am not going to fight over spilt milk any longer. Just as much, I believe that my healing will be a mixture of healthy lifestyle, lack of stress and positive thinking. I was told not to blame myself over the things that happened. I am not anymore. And I stopped holding a grudge against the other parties involved as well (I hold some grudge against the doctors that attended to me). If this article gives you the impression that I still feel guilt, blame, anger and so on it is a result of the way you, Dear Reader, are reading my words. I dared myself not to cry for myself while writing this post and I haven’t.
Cruse my heart and hope to die, I wasn’t faking it.
I asked Ana to take a photo of me as a proof that I did not cry. I am sure some people will read emotional pain and suffering on my face. It is probably because Ana keeps telling me to sit tightly and stop sticking my tongue out, while she is pushing the shutter button. I am honestly doing much better, guys. (Cătălina stop lying. There is still a little bit of fury left in there, isn’t it? Maybe…
You probably want to know what happened with my blood after hospitalization. Please, remind yourself that I was given medicine through IVs to reduce the clots for three weeks and it didn’t help. At home, my family gave me a pill of Sintrom (anticoagulant) a day for two months. Taking this pill meant constant supervision, including blood tests every month. I didn’t take any blood tests, tough, because I was too scared of the needles. My family didn’t want to make me go trough that pain yet again, so they switched to aspirin. The blood clots dissolved on their own during the next few months. In May, this year, when my brain activity started to go haywire, my family took me to the hospital to see a new neurologist (I had an MRI a few days earlier) which showed improvements. Only then did I take a new blood test and the results showed that I had a normal blood. The results shocked pretty much everyone in the medical ward who knew some details about my case. This doctor put me back on Sintrom, half a pill a day. Two weeks later the test results showed that my blood was thinner than normal. It was supposed to be like that to prevent clotting (said the doctor) after two more weeks, new results showed that it was too thin. So, I was given a quarter of pill a day. I’ve taken blood tests every month to make sure my blood is alright. I went from too thin, to thin and then to normal. Presently,I am off the anticoagulant pill and have to take a new blood test when I return home.
’nuff said, I guess. It’s very late right now and I am lusting for a glass of natural juice. This has been my blood thinner over the last year, keeping that healthy balance. Still working on the stress and positive thinking. But there are “forces” around me, kicking me in the butt and suggesting my mind to stop giving a god damn about the past. Plus, I have to keep some information for the article about “The stupid brain syndrome”.
Enjoy True Blood,
P.S.1: I am interested in knowing more about rare blood diseases and how they manifest in real life. If you know of some one who goes through something like this, please share any medical information.
P.S.2: If a vampire drinks blood from a person who suffers from hypercoagulation, what happens to the vampire? Can anyone answer me this?
P.S.3: You will wonder if this is all I’ve ever felt. No. There is more. But these things are buried so deep that talking about them would mean waking ancient dinosaurs up and they would eat and consume me alive. Plus, talking about talking about even more horrible sins, would make this article redundant. I felt happiness, and I’ve seen beauty too. And they deserve to be talked about as well. And so, I will.