Seeping Wounds

I-Before

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a skydiver.

To know every time you jump it could be the last moments of your life.

For generations my father's family has lived with the knowledge that any moment could be their last.

It must have been the same in my mother's too I guess. She never knew them, Mom was put up for adoption when she was a baby. Unlike some kids she was adopted right away and loved.

My father died when I was eleven. He died from internal bleeding. We aren't sure how he got hurt or if it was spontaneous but when you're like us it doesn't matter. Blood=death.

Being a guy with Hemophilia is rare, being a girl with Hemophilia is practically impossible. If I had been a boy it wouldn't have made much difference. I probably would have ended up with Hemophilia anyway.

It's just my luck that I ended up with the Hemophiliac genes.

I have mild Hemophilia, basically I'm only in danger if I get hurt although I do tend to have more nosebleeds than most people. My dad had moderate Hemophilia, he was in danger really every moment of the day. It wasn't often but sometimes he would just randomly start bleeding.

Most people when they meet me and learn of my condition are surprised that my parents didn't just abort me. No one says it out loud but I can tell they are thinking it.

My parents never even considered it. I came home crying from school one day because an older boy was saying my parents must have been too late to have me killed. My parents sat me down and told me that they loved me before and after they found out I was a Hemophiliac.

"We would never have let you miss out on life." My mom told me.

"We knew God had a plan for you and we couldn't disrupt them, it's not for us to decide how long you live." Dad said hugging me.

I was home schooled until grade five, then my parents decided that the other students could understand that they had to be gentle with me.

There was a long meeting with the school parents about how if I cut myself or started bleeding or something my blood wouldn't clot. The blood would keep flowing.

I was given a medically trained teaching assistant to accompany me around just in case I needed the treatment stuff.

I use this replacement therapy, I just inject a line that will slowly drip the clotting factor into my blood and that will stop the bleeding. It will keep me alive long enough to get to the hospital and let them fix the rest.

Half my backpack is literally medical supplies.

Anyway grade five was when I met my best friend Mia. Mia and I look a lot alike and sometimes people think we're sisters. I'm taller than her but we have the same blonde hair and pale skin (my skin is unhealthily pale, my veins are clearly visible). Our eyes are the huge difference between us. Mine are misty grey while her's are bright green.

Mia is like a mini hurricane when it comes to defending me. Even though she is short (like 5'4") I have no better defender.

It was Mia who saved my life in grade six. The hallway had been crowded and I was pushed from behind. I fell down like the entire flight of stairs, cutting my head open. Mia was the only one who seemed to realize how dangerous this was. She was the one who ripped open the backpack and bandaged my head. Then the teaching assistant was able to get the clotting factor going.

I went to the hospital and stayed there for weeks. After that Mia and I both went through first aid classes. Neither of us ever wanted to be caught in a position of being unable to do something.