As told to Nicole Audrey Spector for HealthyWomen.org
It was a chaotic time. I was 45-years-old and working full-time with two kids — one in high school and the other in elementary school. And being the pastor’s wife also had its demands. Both of my sons have hemophilia, a rare bleeding disorder. My youngest was in and out of the hospital. Every day, I was on alert, waiting for a call from his school telling me I’d have to rush over to take him to the ER.
One night, I was taking out the trash. The ground was slippery with ice, and I slipped and fell flat on my back. It happened so fast. One moment I was standing, the next I was looking straight up at a glittering blanket of stars. I was able to get up, but the arm I fell on was badly bruised.
The bruising turned black and blue fast. It looked just like the bruises my sons got. I worried I may have a bleeding disorder too (hemophilia is genetic and carried by the female X chromosome), so the next day I went to the hemophilia treatment center. Fortunately, tests revealed that I didn’t have a disorder. Just a badly bruised arm. To read the rest of the story, click here.
