I was born in Istanbul, Turkey, in 2004. When I was just three months old, my mother noticed that even the slightest touch could leave a bruise on my face. She immediately took me to the hospital, where I was diagnosed with Glanzmann Thrombasthenia. From that point on, the pediatric hematology department at Çapa Education and Research Hospital became a familiar part of my life.
As a child, I experienced serious bleeding, including a life-threatening nosebleed that left me hospitalized for several days. Despite my condition, I was extremely active. I wanted to jump, run, play, and explore just like every other child.
Outside my home was a large bike track, but I could only watch from the balcony because my doctor had strictly advised me not to ride a bike. Martial arts, something I desperately wanted to try, was also considered too risky. Swimming was one of the few activities I was allowed to do.
Being different from my peers was difficult. Everyone else seemed “normal,” while I felt like I had to constantly worry about getting hurt. More than anything, I wished I could meet someone else with Glanzmann Thrombasthenia who understood what it was like. Looking back now, some of the things I complained about as a child might seem small, but at the time, they felt very real.
During the first six or seven years of my life, finding reliable information about Glanzmann Thrombasthenia online was nearly impossible. Hospital visits were frequent, and it sometimes felt as though I was constantly being examined, tested, and having blood drawn.
Even ordinary childhood activities could become complicated. Wrestling is popular among children in Turkey, but for me, a match could leave my body covered in bruises while my friends walked away without a mark. Even playful slaps from friends could make me look like I had been in a fight. My family would panic, and every new bruise became another reminder that my life was different.
I tried to channel my energy into swimming, although even diving could sometimes leave bruises. Later, I turned to basketball. At 190 cm tall, I had the height for high school basketball, but physical contact, especially shoulder-to-shoulder contact, could still be risky.
Eventually, I decided to try weight training. My doctor and others around me advised against it, but I chose to try it. Over the years, I learned how to train carefully and safely for my own circumstances. I have since added tennis and running to my routine as well.
My experience has taught me that Glanzmann Thrombasthenia does not necessarily mean giving up an active life. At the same time, everyone with GT is different, and what works safely for one person may not be appropriate for another. For me, the key has been learning my own limits, understanding the risks, and choosing activities that work with my health rather than against it.
As a child, accepting limitations was difficult. Now, at 22, I understand my body and how to make decisions about the activities I pursue. I do not want Glanzmann Thrombasthenia to define what my life can be.
I also recognize how fortunate I am to have grown up with access to modern medicine and specialized care. Without it, bleeding from injuries or medical procedures that can be managed today could have had very different outcomes.
For now, this is my story. I hope to keep updating it every three to five years as I move through new stages of life with Glanzmann Thrombasthenia.
