As I leaned over the tub to check the temperature of the water a droplet of red plinked into the bottom of the tub, quickly spread itself in the water, turned pink then washed away down the drain. "What the hell was that?" I thought. And then there were several more red drops in the tub swirling around and disappearing down the drain. I realized they were somehow coming from me. I touched nose and came away with a red smear on my palm. "What. The. Hell?!?!"
In the few steps it took me to move over from the tub to the sink to look at myself in the mirror, the dribs and drabs of blood became a thin stream; then a spout; then a torrent. How could this much blood be coming out of one nostril? I hadn't had a bloody nose since I was a kid and it was NEVER like this! As I grabbed for the roll of toilet paper, a spray of blood arced across the sink, wall, floor and toilet seat like a red rainbow. I shoved toilet paper up my nose and pinched the bridge. Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Before I could lean my head back the toilet paper in my nostril fell out with a flood of more blood and a chunk of gelatinous clots.
Frantically I shoved more tissue up my nose and pressed for direct pressure. I held my head back still reeling from what was happening to me. I had no time to think, it was bazaar. Maybe this was it? Maybe tonight was my night to die. And that thought just pissed me off. I didn't want to die and not even know what the hell I was dying from. Suddenly I felt my throat fill up with the hot, coppery taste of blood and I spat into the sink. Blood sprayed the entire bowl of the sink as a clot the size of two egg yolks plopped into the sink. My throat kept filling up with it until I began to think I might actually drown in my own blood!
I jumped into the shower still half-dressed. It was the only thing I could think of to do. I spat another gory chunk of blood clots into the bottom of the tub and miraculously, these were even larger than the last. I removed the tissue from my nose to get a better look. I had a hard time processing what I was seeing. The moment I removed that tissue, the blood flowed as freely like a faucet. I remember thinking to myself that the metaphor of "flowing like a faucet", which always seemed like over-exaggeration whenever I read it in a book, actually applied to this situation quite literally. I'd never heard of anyone dying from a nosebleed but goddam it how the fuck do you turn it off!?
After keeping my face lifted up to the water from the shower for a while, I grabbed for my towel and the roll of toilet paper and headed to my computer. In seconds I had googled ITP nosebleeds and found out that for people with ITP this nosebleed was just about run of the mill. Ordinary. Old hat. I learned that people with ITP shouldn't put there head back because they will end up swallowing too much blood and clots which will cause them to throw up. Also, that several spritzes of Afrin (to constrict the blood vessels), Vaseline inside the nose and holding ice on the bridge of the nose were the only ways to stop it. If the nosebleed lasts for more than 30 minutes, you should go to the hospital.
That made perfect sense because bleeding like that for 30 minutes really would require a transfusion I think. By the time I got back to the bathroom the bleeding had mercifully slowed down to a drip. The condition of the bathroom rocked me. It was like returning to the scene of a crime--Psycho! There was blood on the walls, blood on the floor, sprayed around the sink and toilet. There was what looked like a bloody hand print in the shower and blood smears on the tiles leading out of the shower. The shower curtain had also been sprayed with blood and small pools of it marked my exit from the bathroom to my computer.
It took such a long time to clean up all of that blood. Every time I bent down I'd feel the tickle of a new nosebleed and I'd have to stop. It seemed the more I cleaned the more blood I'd find--on the mirror, on one of the shampoo bottles. Finally I was finished cleaning up and I sat down on my bed exhausted and shaken.
I was diagnosed with ITP 2 years ago and I've always taken it in stride. All the bruising on my thighs, arms, stomach and sometimes my hands; the petechiae. . .I would joke that ITP is not really dangerous. . .unless you bleed. Hardy har har. Somehow that't not as funny as it used to be.
Omg!
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