Shrinking the Silence

Sharing a voice on living with rare disease

I’m rare and these are my stripes — February 27, 2019

I’m rare and these are my stripes

Every year on the last day of February, rare diseases are recognised, as well as the challenges that come with the disease such as getting an initial diagnosis, being listened to by health professionals and finding treatment options.

There have now been five rare disease days since I received my diagnosis of Familial Adenomatous Polyposis (FAP) in October 2014. My initial diagnosis was then followed by another rare disease linked to FAP called a desmoid tumour.

The zebra often symbolises rare disease, because of the uniqueness of their stripes that all tell a different story – no zebra is the same, but there is common ground in that they all have black and white stripes.

It took me a few years to acknowledge the power of finding that common ground with others in the rare disease and chronic illness communities, but since I have it has made the burden of being different and going through struggles you wouldn’t even think of in your 20s that much easier. Knowing that I’m not the only one who has struggled with identity after chemo-induced hair loss, or that life and socialising takes it out of others as well and prioritising rest is a must from time to time – it’s things like this that I have found so helpful through connecting with people.

These days I also appreciate much more the opportunities that come up to raise awareness about rare diseases. A few months ago I felt really happy that during a hospital stay, for dehydration whilst overseas on holiday, I could raise awareness about one of my rare diseases, the desmoid tumour. I’m in such a routine of seeing doctors who have familiarised themselves with my condition that I forget that majority of medical professionals will never come across this type of tumour in their career. The doctor I saw during that stay was so surprised at how aggressively it grew in my abdomen, and genuinely was interested in how it was being treated.

There’s lots of hope and promise coming out of research into desmoid tumours, and smaller pharmaceutical companies (or subsidiaries of the larger ones) who are taking an interest in rare disease and rare cancer treatments. I’m also so grateful for organisations like the Desmoid Tumor Research Foundation in the US that keep fighting for answers for desmoid patients like me.

2019 is looking hopeful for me. My desmoid tumour is stable, and has been for close to three years. I find out in a few weeks whether I can look into doing my treatment less often and that to me is a HUGE milestone so I have all my fingers crossed.

Another year of being rare — February 28, 2018

Another year of being rare

Today is Rare Disease day. Last year on this same day was the first time I shared my story on social media and I can definitely say I’ve never put myself out there like that before, but I’m so glad I did because in the rare disease and chronic illness community, we need as many voices out there. I’ve also learnt more about myself than I could have ever imagined at the same time.

The hashtag for this year’s Rare Disease Day is #ShowYourRare.

Here’s what my rare looks like in a year:

  • Close to 50 regular blood tests, then add a few from hospital stays
  • My portacath accessed close to 50 times for IV treatment
  • Give or take 30 hot and humid summer days struggling to stay hydrated with no colon – the struggle is real
  • Unknown impact on my fertility
  • 6 day procedures
  • 2 new doctors making it a total of 6 specialists I regularly see
  • 1 amazing treatment with no name, keeping my desmoid tumour stable with next to no side effects, and all thanks to research.

Research also happens to be the theme of 2018 and is so important for rare diseases. Trial and experimental drugs, like what I’m on at the moment, offer so much hope for diseases like desmoid tumours where the treatment path isn’t as clear cut because there aren’t enough patients to base success rates off.

This year I will need to rely on research and other options once again because the stock of the drug I’m currently on expires this year.

I am also so lucky that my rare also looks like this:

file (2)

I have my challenges but my rare disease was caught in time to be treated effectively and not reactively, and I can continue to live a full life.