Melody's Secret

Awaken to a Nightmare

I wake up and look at the clock beside me and groan, it's around 2:00 in the morning. I put my arm over my eyes and wait for a few minutes only to discover that sleep still eludes me. I throw my arm down, and go to get up out of bed only to turn and hit my head on the nightstand. I flip on the light and with a dull aching head look into the mirror, only to stare in horror at what I see. It's back, my ITP.

On shaking legs I head towards my parents room. I turn on the light, not thinking that it may be harsh, and cry, "mom, dad I have a bruise growing on my face we need to go to the hospital now!"

At first my parents groan, and before my dad opens his eyes he says, "Mel, sweety it is just a bruise it's not..." He stops as he opens his eyes, looks at my face, and sees the bruise growing there. After that he jumps out of bed, shakes my mom to wake her, and says, "honey we need to get Melody to the hospital!"

My mother hears the urgency in my father's voice she looks up at me and, with a now pale face, gasps. She hurries out of bed, grabs her jacket and says, "Melody, bathroom, now!" Once there I strip and I hear her gasp behind me. She turns me around and with tears in her eyes says, "put your jammies back on. You have petechiae all over you, and more bruises." After my clothes are back on, my mother traces my face without touching me.

We then hurry down the stairs, out the door, and hop into the car. As we make our way to the emergency room, my mom says with a strained voice, "Melody, honey. What has happened recently to cause this?"

I then recount to her in a dull voice, the dresser and banging my head on the nightstand this morning. I also recall to her how I had been in the kitchen a few days ago and hit my head on the cupboard. She looks back at me with worry she stares incessantly at my forehead and the side of my face.

I flip my hair in front of my face as I turn away from her watery eyes. I look out the window and remember what this did to me the first time around and what it means to get it again. I remember how I had to be careful not to bang my head or let any injury befall me. I remember how the ITP makes it so that my blood can't clot, so that I bruise easily and a cut would bleed more; but most importantly I remember being treated as if I were glass. I remember feeling alone and isolated. I remember that the only bright spot was Damien, and how even he was more careful around me than before. I was twelve back then, and it took a year to get better. I wonder how long it will take now, or if I will get better. With these bitter thoughts we arrive at the hospital and hurry inside.

We rush in and tell the reception what is going on, or at least try to. My mom goes up to the desk and says, "We are here for my daughter Melody Allen."

The lady there looks up at us with a kind face and says, "What is your visit for today?"

My mom looks at her, and with fear in her voice, says, "For the bruise forming on my daughter's face. We think that it maybe a relapse of ITP."

The lady looked at me and then asks my parents to go sit while she talks to me. She then asks me, "Sweety did somebody hit you?"

I blink at her for a second, and then realizing that ITP would probably not be the first thought someone would have, I reply, "No one hit me. I, like my mother believe that this is a relapse of ITP."

The lady at these words looks at me with a raised brow, and with a disbelieving look says, "Okay dear, I will put that on your wristband. Please wait and we will call you back shortly."

We wait and I watch my parents stare at my bruise and after awhile ask, "Is the bruise getting bigger?" My parents look away guilty and my dad says, "I'm sorry dear, but yes it is getting bigger." I sigh and turn away hiding the bruise, and a couple of minutes later we are called back.

First we had to convince them that I was not being beaten, and how we did that is by demanding a blood test, for checking my platelet count. After that the doctor comes in with the bad news face and says, "Your daughter has ITP, which as you seem to know makes it so that her blood cannot clot, which causes the bruising, petechiae, and makes her blood thin so she will bleed quite a bit if she is cut. The normal count should be between 150,000 to 450,000, and right now it is almost zero. This said, there are treatments, such as steroids, and only 5% of patients die, so hopefully with the treatments she will soon be as right as rain."

He says this with such an annoying smile it makes me grit my teeth in anger and wish to tell him that he is full of it and does not understand what he is talking about, when it comes to feeling right as rain. It is so hard to be treated differently, to be sick, and to feel alone. Even if I get better I will be behind on my life and be treated as if at any moment I could break and disappear. I then think of Damien and what he will do, and how he would worry and come home early from the trip with his parents. So at this moment as I think of all the implications it could have to our friendship, I decide to keep my sickness a secert. As I come to this conclusion I hear my mother say that she should call Mrs Rogers, Damien's mom, and I cry out, "No mom! You can't, I don't want Damien to know."

My parents look at me in surprise and my mom says, "But honey he is your best friend! Are you really going to leave him in the dark?"

"Yes mom it is better this way! I don't want him to treat me differently! I want him to treat me as he does now, not as some china doll!"

My dad looks at me, and then in a soft voices asks, "What about what Damien would want? Won't he want to be there for you?"

I look away as he says this and reply, "It's better this way." After that I would say no more on the matter. I was kept at the hospital overnight and then we headed home. My treatments would be Monday through Friday in the afternoons so that I wouldn't miss school. I came up with the perfect lie to tell Damien as to why I was busy. He knew that I adored history, and that I was trying to get into Georgetown with a scholarship. I was excited for it before I got sick, and while I was less enthused. I still chose to work on my dream and become an archaeologist. Time begins to slip by and before I know it, it is time for school and time to lie to Damien.