Thesis and Memories of Diagnosis

I just e-mailed the Senior Thesis draft to my instructor...about two weeks ahead of schedule. Yay! I really appreciate all of the help and prayers. It's been a joy to work this assignment, although I'm glad I'm finished with the first draft. By this afternoon, I was ready to move onto something else. I managed to write thirty pages, not counting the Bibliography. I told Mom yesterday about the "Distinction in Political Science" award that is given to one graduate each Spring that displays outstanding knowledge in the field. The award is based on the thesis and grades. I did not write to earn the award, but it sure would be "icing on the cake" if I got it. If I get an A on my senior thesis, I should graduate with a 3.7 GPA.

Several times this week, my thoughts have turned to Elizaira's home-going and her immediate family. She leaves behind a devoted husband and two beautiful daughters, ages four and six. It was a sobering realization to learn that Elizaira was only twenty-nine when she died. As I prayed for her family, I couldn't help but remember the day I "discovered" I had Hermansky-Pudlak Syndrome.

Ironically, the day I knew I had HPS was not when the blood tests confirmed the diagnosis, but several days earlier. It was a warm, August afternoon. Mom was with me. I had just awaken from a nap. I was in my room at Roanoke Memorial Hospital. As Mom and I talked, Dr. Davenport and her resident, who were managing my care at the time, came into the room. We caught up. Suddenly, Dr. Davenport asked me, "Did you hear the results of the pathology report on the yellow fluid we found in your pelvic cavity during the Appendectomy?" She went on to explain that the results stated the yellow fluid was ceroid, a waxy like substance produced in the abdominal cavity of those with HPS. With that one pathology result, while not the official diagnosis, I knew I had HPS.

My life was going to be changed forever. As Dr. Davenport spoke, I had the film reel of my entire life flash in my mind. So many of the "mystery" bruises, stomach pain, and fatigue I had growing up finally made sense. Puzzle pieces started falling into place. I remember trying to fight back tears; I was determined not to cry in front of the doctor and resident. After they left the my hospital room, I had a "good cry" that released all of the negative feelings I had penned up inside. After crying, I remember thinking to myself, "God is in control. Now, I just need to accept this and move on." Because I had already "grieved," God gave me the grace to actually comfort Mom when the blood test results officially diagnosed me with Hermansky-Pudlak Syndrome.