Love Sick

Epilogue - 4 Years Later

I wave to Micah as he runs around with other children on the playground. We just celebrated his fourth birthday and I can't believe how far we've come. My health and love life have completely transformed since I was diagnosed with Thrombotic Thrombocytopenic Purpura (TTP) over four years ago.

As far as my health, it took 2 ½ years of daily hospital treatments before I saw any positive lasting changes. After more than 20 rounds of chemotherapy, 360+ treatments of plasmapheresis, hundreds of blood transfusions, steroids, immunosuppressants and IVIG, I was officially declared in remission from TTP. My family and friends threw me a huge party, celebrating life and new beginnings. Currently, I receive plasma infusions and an experimental drug every other week to remain in remission. This will be my care for as long as I live, since it is the even more rare refractory form of TTP coupled with another disorder I have since been diagnosed with and currently there is no cure for TTP.

I continue to be at high risk for relapse and I try to live my life without feeling like I'm walking on eggshells, waiting for my blood count to plummet again. Despite my fear of relapse, I have been able to reintegrate into a normal life. I no longer have to put my life on hold so I can undergo daily treatments at the hospital. I put my UCLA social work degree to good use and work with sick children in my community.

Tom and I tried for over a year to fix our marriage. We went through a few months of marriage counseling and went on countless dates with just the two of us. Tom moved out for a few months and then moved back in. We tried living apart, then together but in separate bedrooms, then back in the same bed. We cried together; we screamed at each other; we wrote each other passionate letters and bared our souls. In the end, we both finally accepted that our marriage really was over. Maybe our fate had been sealed the very day that Tom told me that he didn't want to be married anymore. But we tried. Ultimately, I filed for divorce and Tom moved out for good.

In more happy news, after being separated for almost a year, my parents reconciled. They are both so happy together now and I love having our family together again. Shamefully, part of me resents the fact that my parents can work out their mountain of problems, while Tom and I are done forever. I guess if people are meant to be, then they will stick together somehow, through everything, no matter what.

Even though Tom and I are no longer together, a small part of me will always love him. An even bigger part of me is still angry with him for leaving me when I needed him the most. He sees Micah weekly and is a wonderful father to him and really, that's all I could want from him now. Tom and I are both dating other people, our past together like a Lifetime movie special that we only tell someone who we're really seriously dating.

Some people just can't handle TTP, but I'm not one of them. Tom was.

This morning I woke up to a typically beautiful California day, so I packed up a picnic and some toys and drove Micah and I to our local park. As Micah played with a group of kids, I lounged on the blanket that I laid on the grass near the playground. I have a book next to me that I haven't opened yet, too lost in my own thoughts and distracted by the kids' rambunctious playing. I sigh and marvel at the beauty of the world around me. To think, if I wasn't diagnosed correctly, I could be missing all of this.

Eventually, Micah marches over to me.

"What are you doing?" he asks as he sits down.

I sit up on my elbow and brush back his brown hair. "I'm watching you play," I tell him. "Are you having fun?"

He thinks about it. "Yes, but I want to play with you now." I grin at him and pull over the bag of toys that we brought with us.

"Okay, what do you want to play?"

"Hmmm..." He creases his forehead as he digs through the bag, pulling out various toys: a plastic bulldozer, a Mickey Mouse racecar and a small soccer ball. "Ah, how about this?" He pulls out a plastic stethoscope and pulls the ear buds around his neck. "Time for your checkup!"

I giggle. "Are you going to cure my TTP, doctor?"

"Yes," he nods solemnly. "I'll make you better, Mama."

My heart bursts with love for my little boy, the one who sustained me when I felt like everything in my world was falling apart.

I lean forward and kiss him on his forehead.

"You already made Mama better, baby," I smiled. "You already did."