Missing Factor

We would like to hear from others out there who grew up with a bleeding disorder, or were the parent, brother, sister, maiden aunt, etc of someone with a bleeding disorder. If you have something you would like, or need, to share please email it to me, along with complete contact information. I will make sure it gets posted on 'Missing Factor'.

If you would like to become a more or less regular contributing author, send me the all important contact information, and we will get you set up.

Be warned though, this blog is mine. I thought of it, and it was written by me. It was my idea, and it is mine. (I'm sorry. I had a traumatic experience with an elk once. (Monty Python fans are laughing.)) Posts advocating hate, violence, etc, etc will not be tolerated. We're in this together. We ought to at least play well together.

You can reach me at:

missing9@cox.net

It started out as a place where I, a newly retired, frustrated writer, could post my rambling little self-indulgent essays where untold millions of readers could ignore them instead of just my wife. In that regard it was an unmitigated success.

Lately, however, its primary function has been evolving into being the record the world of the 50s through the 70s from the point of view of a boy with hemophilia, which would, of course, be me. I am convinced that one of the reasons I survived some of my more dramatic hemorrhages is because I knew my grandfather had survived even worse. If he could make it given the treatment he received, I knew I could make it.

Now there is yet another generation of little boys with hemophilia, and their parents, trying to make sense of it all. Many of the problems my brother and I faced have been resolved by advances in medicine, but the vast majority are still there causing parents and boys to stare at the ceiling long into the night wondering how they are going to cope with some issue. Perhaps, if they can see how I, and hopefully others, dealt with the same issues, it will take some of the fear out of the equation, and give them the confidence to find there own way. After all, if a schlep like me can do it, think of how well you will be able to.

I am moving all of the posts not related to hemophilia, hospitals, and other things that start with 'H' over to my other blogs (listed brazenly in the sidebars and navigation buttons in the header), and hope that one or two of you will see fit to visit them, if only to find out my opinion of pick-up trucks.