Four years ago this all began. My husband, Garry, hit a ram (a mountain sheep) on the way to our son's soccer tournament. He called way too soon after leaving home and I knew right away something was wrong. The truck was wrecked and the sheep was dead, but they were fine. They got a ride into Ashcroft to get checked out and after being cleared to go, carried on to soccer. I met them down at the field with the rest of our kids. My son was a little shaken about the sheep, but thank God they were okay.
A few days later Garry started to have stomach pain where the airbag had left a bruise and then there was signs of bleeding. Our family doctor ordered some blood tests and found that his blood was off. His red blood cells were low and his platelets even lower. Garry explained that he often felt like his limbs were not getting enough oxygen and that is exactly what was happening. She told us that these things were not usually found until someone was really sick. This was a good thing to find early. But, why were his counts off? That year or two was a bit terrifying in parts- you never want to worry unnecessarily, but test after test began to be ordered. Ultrasound, a million other blood tests. Words were thrown around like liver cirrhosis and bone cancer (that makes me sick to my stomach even writing it). Garry's spleen was also enlarged and so it pointed to a blood disorder, which often is a result of something else, or liver cirrhosis. Garry began seeing both a gastroenterologist in Kamloops and a hematologist in Kelowna. They found nothing conclusive in all the tests. Even two different liver biopsies and a bone marrow biopsy and he seemed to have dodged a bullet. Both the blood and liver specialist ordered blood tests every six months to watch him just in case, but nothing was moving, and eventually they told him they didn't need to see him anymore. We went on with life. We moved to Kamloops. It was no longer worrisome, since nothing serious ever showed up. It was our norm.
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