It begun like this… Step back in time 6 years. I was away with friends for the weekend and was out partying at the time, when I got a call. I was sitting in the back of a car, passing champagne around and drinking from the bottle.
“I’m sick”, Meg said, as matter of fact as always.
“Oh, that’s no good,” I said, not registering the magnitude or chronic nature of the initials ITP. The long words meant nothing to me and I figured my friend would be fine soon. I still regret my callous reaction that equalled something to the significance of a cold.
Now step back again, before that call, and I remember when I first thought something was wrong. I lived with Meg in a house of girls. We would often make quick dashes to the shower in little more than our underwear. One day I looked at Meg as she walked by and I saw an incredible amount of dark bruises on her body. What struck me the most was that they were not in the normal places. Instead of bruises on her knees and shins, she had bruises on the inside of her thighs and highlighted against the porcelain white skin underneath her forearm. We discussed these bruises and figured they were nothing. Perhaps she needed to take iron tablets. Continue reading