He walked into the room and announced: von Willebrand disease. Just like that. No tests. Nothing. A magical pronouncement that gave meaning to all that had come before.
I was a high school senior. By now I had learned how to handle my bleeding and bruising, at least most of the time. Or maybe it was just that I had learned to live with it.
As a child, I was prone to painful earaches. The best solution, according to mothers’ lore, was to lie on heat until “it” popped. The “it” was my eardrum. The pop was it bursting. Penicillin, which could have cleared the infections, was new, and lore remained strong. Besides, I was allergic to penicillin. After multiple ruptures, my eardrum needed repair. It was a simple procedure. A “non-bleeding” procedure. Hmm. I fantasized about that possibility and told them I bled a lot, and surgery was scheduled.
I’m sure the outcome is already abundantly clear to you, just as it was to me back then. Dressings applied to my right ear were changed in rapid succession, though my eardrum was successfully repaired.
He walked into the room shortly after the surgery. No matter how cloudy I might have been, his name remains emblazoned in my consciousness. As if on a cinema marquee announcing stars, his name, Dr. Filmanowicz, dazzles to this day. Without any hesitation, he stated his hypothesis: “I am quite sure you have von Willebrand disease.” He then ordered the blood test, which would confirm it. Between my birth and this day of my surgery, VWD had been isolated and named. There was a reason. Finally.
By the time I left the hospital, my hair was a sticky, clumpy auburn muddle. I was 17 and horrified by the sight of myself, so the first place my mom and I stopped was the beauty salon. Salons of the ’70s were neighborhood places where women primped and pampered in feminine solitude. Weekly hairstyles were born and lacquered, and gray hair turned blue. The kind hands of a friend returned my auburn hair to its natural chestnut. Only she would have been willing to tip my head back and shampoo that bloody mess five times until the water ran clear.