Good Luck Bear ...

Way back in 1986, when I was in my early Twenties, I was struck down by a rare blood disorder called idiopathic thrombocytopenic purpura or ITP for short. It is an autoimmune disorder which causes a shortage of platelets and today is more often referred to as immune thrombocytopenia.

The immune system basically mistakes the platelets as being foreign and destroys them. It can follow a virus, vaccination or certain medications, but for most people the cause is unknown and that was certainly the case for me.

Platelets, which are small and sticky and circulate in the bloodstream provide the initial plug to stop bruising and bleeding after an injury. A normal platelet count is somewhere between 150 to 400 (x 109/l) and anyone with a count less than 100 (referred to as 100,000 in the US) would be considered thrombocytopenic (i.e. short of platelets).

When I was first rushed into hospital following what I'd thought to be a routine blood test my own platelet count was in single figures and so I was at severe risk. Over the coming months I spent more time in hospital than I did out of it and despite the medical staff trying all the usual treatments, such as steroids and platelet transfusions, my counts remained dangerously low throughout that period.

Occasionally, if they rallied up to or around 100 mark I would be let out for a few days, but my counts continued to dip erratically and so I kept ending up having to go back into hospital. It was an extremely difficult, unpleasant and worrying time in my life and very difficult to cope with.

Remember I was only 22 when first diagnosed and there were no mobile phones, tablet computers or internet to help keep my mind of my situation. Thankfully, I had my girlfriend Jan (now my wife) there for support and she would visit every day, sometimes several times a day in an attempt to keep my spirits up.

During one of her early visits she brought me the little teddy bear that you see in this photo to serve as a good luck charm and to watch over me when she wasn't there.

I inserted him into the top pocket of my pyjama jacket and so he was christened Joey, after the baby kangaroos that spend much of their early life inside their parent's pouch.

He and I became almost inseparable during that time and whilst there is no way or proving he made a difference I certainly took comfort from having him around.

Probably my lowest point was at the end of 1986 when I spent New Year's Eve in hospital yet again. I'd started bleeding internally and was sat there all alone with my non-alcoholic lager, my piece of shortbread and with a drip attached to each arm: one for blood and the other for platelets.

I didn’t know what 1987 would bring, but I was sure I wouldn't be around to see much of it and, although the consultants didn’t say so at the time, I later found out that they’d been thinking the same thing.

Within days though, for no apparent reason my counts rose to a level where I could be operated on and so an emergency operation took place to remove my spleen, which was a sort of last gasp attempt at getting my condition under control. Thankfully, that course of action seemed to sort things out as my counts continued to rise and I was discharged from hospital and the clinic for good.

Then in 2009, having gone 23 years without any problems my ITP returned and I found myself with a single figure count and back in hospital. That was strange enough in itself, but even stranger was the fact that second time around I responded favourably to steroid treatment, whereas they didn't work at all back in the Eighties, and so my stay in hospital was fairly brief.

And I'm pleased to say there's been no sign of it returning since then, but maybe I'll just go knock on some wood and give Joey a rub just to be on the safe side!

For this week's Sunday Challenge for which we were asked to share a symbol or object that means something to you and tell us why.