Skip to main content

Me? Stressed? Never.

It's day 5 at the hospital. I had to count that on my fingers. I don't know what time is, at this point. 

I've had a C. T. scan, collapsed forearm veins. A misfire on vein flushing, plus donating a river of blood to the floor; a doctor whose voice might be better suited as an announcer at large crowd gatherings and the return of my very own doctor.

Phew. Finally. Some real medical care. My doc ordered a cross section scan so that he can see in full 3D what's going on. 

It's nasty. My ears are still ringing from that conversation, because it sounded to me like I'm walking by miracle. I don't like miracles. They're unstable.

This is how the conversation went,  more or less. 

Doctor: G, this is gonna be a long ride. I need one thing from you. 
Me: Sure, doc. Anything. 
Doc: I need you to relax and remain calm. I need time to fix this. 
•••
My brain: Who's this? Does he know us? Does he have the authority to say this? 🧐
My spleen: Oh no. Oh no. I'm just a worm. This is too much. 😫
My heart: What did he say?! 😠 He said WHAT?  
My feet: I'm carrying us out of here. This is uncalled for. 
Me (with a smile): Oh yeah, sure, doc. I can do that. Yeah anyway,  how long is "time"
Doc: Gugz, let me show you a cross section of your scan.
°°°° shows me a disaster chest scan °°°

My heart: Ha! That's not me in this photo. Lol. I'm not a failure. What do you say I failed? Rude! 
My lungs: πŸ€• Guys, shut up, okay. If I fill up with more gunk, you'll all stop talking. 😡‍πŸ’«
Stomach: We're gonna need good food.
Tongue: Cheesecake! 

Doctor (still explaining): blah blah fishpaste. 
Me: Yeah, yes doc. Thank you. I'll relax a lot. Look, I'm relaxing now. πŸ™‚

First thought: my son is alone at home again. He'll starve himself because he'd rather eat noodles than roast some chicken. Oh there's food in the house. But it must be cooked and that's the problem.
Also, my son is alone at home! I'm calm. πŸ’€

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Not Without My Lola

  Activated charcoal, to bind the poison. Anti-parasite meds. Antibiotics.  Pain killers (on my request). A mineral drip. My baby is in hospital. I cannot see anything beyond Lola. Not yet anyway. She’s still 4 years old. We still have at least 10 more years, no? Her eyes are darting side to side. She’s not responding to anything, not even an ear massage. She’s just laying there, in her cage at the local vet hospital. Lola went from bouncing dog to a drooling mess. We couldn’t find her in the morning. She was discovered facing away from life, while seated on a muddy patch. She struggled to go into the house, and then still faced the wall when she got into my room. A five-minute drive to the vet felt like a mountainous train journey. The vet staff helped us get her to a doctor’s table and she was immediately taken to a “procedure room.” After the longest 30 minutes, it still needed to be clarified what the issue may be. But poisoning is the main suspect. We are in South Africa,...

Clean Girl

  Chapter 1 Fresh.  He always calls me ‘fresh’ and I like it. It makes me feel giddy inside. Giddy? Am I…? No, I don’t know what that feels like. I don’t know if this is it. I’m not sure if I can ask my favourite aunt when she visits. Nevermind, my great aunt is home, and I think this woman can hear my thoughts, so let me sit in front of the TV and watch whatever is there. Our life was very strict, food was always healthy, and having a clean body was viewed as being closer to God. Why did God create sweat if I couldn’t walk around in it? I wondered from a young age. At any rate, asking questions that seemed to question the faith was tantamount to purchasing your own ticket to Satan’s bedside. I don’t like Satan. He’s red and enjoys way too much fire.  We lived in a mixed household, a whole extended family in one place. Life was about piety, accompanied by endless hymns about a better life in another realm. We ate very little, as was required by wha...

Thankful For Loss

1. Don't touch me too hard. Push me when it's needed, but know your power and control your anger. If you push me too hard I will bleed. Not from falling, but from your fingers being pressed a little too hard against my heart's skin.  I have known that heart disease comes with limitations, both physical and mental. It goes without saying that every chronic illness brings with it unspoken psychological strain. I thought of my dad's older brother who looks just like him. That man has suffered from gout for as long as I've known him. I met him when I was 8. I'm in my 40s now. I had my first experience with gout recently. I didn't want to believe it, until physical and chemical tests made it clear. The pain didn't care whether or not I was a believer. After confirmation, my friend FranΓ§ois was my first thought. Then my uncle. Is this what this man had suffered all these years? There's no way that can be considered normal. I lasted a few hours before bring...