An ode to my platelets

Once again, I’ve found myself with a lower-than-ideal platelet count. Well, it was very low last week (13!) and I had them re-tested today. Hopefully, when the results come in later this week, they’ll be better. In the meantime, I have been referred to a haematologist again. Not that they can fix me, as this silly little condition seems to be sticking around.

But it got me thinking about my poor little platelets and how much I love them. I mean, first of all, my bone marrow is a bit stingy with its output of the little guys. So they’ve already started life at a disadvantage for their required job. And if that’s not bad enough, my immune system bullies them to death. Literally.

So when you hear me complain about a low count, it’s not the platelets I’m angry with – no, they’re fighting the good fight and they’re doing it with a super-small army and are up against the rest of my body. I love those little guys. They’re my friends. And so I’ve decided to write them a poem. (I hope my prose isn’t so bad that they in turn commit suicide!)

An ode to my platelets

by Just Frances

Oh platelets, my platelets
You circulate with grace
You plug, you clot, you scab
You are constantly under attack
By my over zealot immune system
But you fight to help spare my life

Oh platelets, my platelets
How I love you so
You are few in numbers
But still, you rush
To fix my cuts and scrapes
Your dedication means the world to me