My name (will remain unspoken) is Sapphirianna. I'm most commonly referred to as Sapph or Sapphi. I am a devout Christian and a teenage gal. Most of you can probably relate to freshman year in high school (which I am in now), but all of you probably haven't seen my life. (Unless you are a close personal friend of mine, which I highly doubt)
To put things simply, I regard myself as slightly insane. You will see that within the next few posts.
(WARNING, I WILL USE VERY LITTLE TEXT SPEAK IF OTHER WORDS FAIL ME)
My hobbies include writing, reading, posting on Gaia, art (traditional or digital), thinking, daydreaming, and animating. (Yes, I animate, but I am a beginner.)
Currently, I am working on a novel titled "Bloodwrath: Blood Wars"
You can find it in the "Post Your Work! Originals" subforum.
To explain somewhat why many of my poems (which will probably be easy to find... on the forums... However, I am not what you call emo. I don't want suicide, I don't cut.) are so dark and morbid...
I have been through a lot within my lifetime of 14 years. I have broken both wrists within one half a second in my sixth grade year (enjoying the indoors during the cold winter months was nice, for I am the quiet smart kid in the back of the room). Also, there is something else that happened a year ago (exactly a year 9 days ago. Yes, I remember the date. I remember the exact time. I remember how long it was...)
Let me explain further:
About a year ago, I was diagnosed with a blood disorder called ITP (look it up please, I have no time to explain in detail what it is.). It was a Saturday when I noticed that I had bright red dots all over my legs. My mother dismissed it as a rash. The strange thing was, was that it didn't itch. There were no raised bumps... And I bruised. Without doing anything. That is when we began to worry. Sunday, October 10th 2009, 10:45 pm, I was taken to the ER to wait for blood test results. Let me assure you it was no pleasant experience. I hate needles and shots with all of my guts. I'm terrified of them. The doctor returned to tell us what was going on (it was around 12:00 am by then) and told us that he had never treated a case of ITP. So, my first ride in an ambulance. ITP is not a directly deadly or extremely urgent disorder, but they were just making sure that I stayed... well... alive to get to the special hospital 2 hours south of us. They didn't want my father to crash or to be delayed just in case something were to happen.
Sleeping with a blood pressure cuff and being strapped to a gernie (as they are most commonly referred to) was not easy. I was exhausted. By the time we actually got to the hospital, it was 3 am Monday (I had no school that day anyways). They took six tries to get an IV in my arm. By then, I was out of tears and numb to it all. My dad, who is a pastor, stayed by my side this entire time. However, he had flashbacks to when my eldest brother had a stroke when he was 8 years old.
I ended up staying the entire week there. Cheerful as the paint may be, I was emotionally scarred. I went home after the treatment with steroids to help my platelet count.
Didn't work.
Different steroids.
Still didn't work.
Onto chemo.
In order to have regular treatments, my doctor said I needed what they call a PICC line, which goes straight to your heart from your forearm.
I needed surgery.
The surgery was to take place on December 17th, 2009.
My birthday.
Six months of visiting that hospital, staying a night, going home with headaches that caused me to want to throw up, for half a month and returning.
Six long months this whole thing lasted.
March 26th, 2010, I was officially released.
I'm still recovering.
And now you understand. Most of it. There still is another chapter to this, but I will wait...
I need a bit.
To put things simply, I regard myself as slightly insane. You will see that within the next few posts.
(WARNING, I WILL USE VERY LITTLE TEXT SPEAK IF OTHER WORDS FAIL ME)
My hobbies include writing, reading, posting on Gaia, art (traditional or digital), thinking, daydreaming, and animating. (Yes, I animate, but I am a beginner.)
Currently, I am working on a novel titled "Bloodwrath: Blood Wars"
You can find it in the "Post Your Work! Originals" subforum.
To explain somewhat why many of my poems (which will probably be easy to find... on the forums... However, I am not what you call emo. I don't want suicide, I don't cut.) are so dark and morbid...
I have been through a lot within my lifetime of 14 years. I have broken both wrists within one half a second in my sixth grade year (enjoying the indoors during the cold winter months was nice, for I am the quiet smart kid in the back of the room). Also, there is something else that happened a year ago (exactly a year 9 days ago. Yes, I remember the date. I remember the exact time. I remember how long it was...)
Let me explain further:
About a year ago, I was diagnosed with a blood disorder called ITP (look it up please, I have no time to explain in detail what it is.). It was a Saturday when I noticed that I had bright red dots all over my legs. My mother dismissed it as a rash. The strange thing was, was that it didn't itch. There were no raised bumps... And I bruised. Without doing anything. That is when we began to worry. Sunday, October 10th 2009, 10:45 pm, I was taken to the ER to wait for blood test results. Let me assure you it was no pleasant experience. I hate needles and shots with all of my guts. I'm terrified of them. The doctor returned to tell us what was going on (it was around 12:00 am by then) and told us that he had never treated a case of ITP. So, my first ride in an ambulance. ITP is not a directly deadly or extremely urgent disorder, but they were just making sure that I stayed... well... alive to get to the special hospital 2 hours south of us. They didn't want my father to crash or to be delayed just in case something were to happen.
Sleeping with a blood pressure cuff and being strapped to a gernie (as they are most commonly referred to) was not easy. I was exhausted. By the time we actually got to the hospital, it was 3 am Monday (I had no school that day anyways). They took six tries to get an IV in my arm. By then, I was out of tears and numb to it all. My dad, who is a pastor, stayed by my side this entire time. However, he had flashbacks to when my eldest brother had a stroke when he was 8 years old.
I ended up staying the entire week there. Cheerful as the paint may be, I was emotionally scarred. I went home after the treatment with steroids to help my platelet count.
Didn't work.
Different steroids.
Still didn't work.
Onto chemo.
In order to have regular treatments, my doctor said I needed what they call a PICC line, which goes straight to your heart from your forearm.
I needed surgery.
The surgery was to take place on December 17th, 2009.
My birthday.
Six months of visiting that hospital, staying a night, going home with headaches that caused me to want to throw up, for half a month and returning.
Six long months this whole thing lasted.
March 26th, 2010, I was officially released.
I'm still recovering.
And now you understand. Most of it. There still is another chapter to this, but I will wait...
I need a bit.
heart
Sapph
Sapph
