Many will regard this post as a mid-life crisis, which I disagree with, but anyway, I can’t help but feeling that my life currently sucks, in the most comprehensive meaning of the word.
Everything began with a medical issue. As many working adults, I found myself suffering from the infamous condition know as “colitis”, which causes abdominal pain for starters (the other symptoms are so disgusting I don’t dare mentioning them, but if you are over 22, you may as well be pretty familiar with them). Therefore, I had to start a series of medical exams, and taking an amount of pills that any addict would find offensive. But nothing serious, not really serious; therefore, so far so good.
But the real problem arised a couple of weeks ago, when one of the routine sonographies showed gallstones, this tiny but dreadful white solid shadows inside the gall bladder, a view to give any one the cripples, especially when the technician goes on with his job without uttering a single word. (I’ve heard cases of chatty technicians scaring some patients to death with a misinterpretation, but I’d rather take that than stony silence). For his misfortune, I’ve seen enough sonograms to detect what shouldn’t be there, and the diagnosis was confirmed by my doctor last Sunday, who told me with this odiously sweet and paternalist smile that I require to be cut in half with a cost between $14,000 to $19,000 pesos (that’s around $1,261.01 to $1,711.36 USCy), which there is not the slightest chance I may be able to gather in the near nor the distant future.
What really made me go ballistic was the absolute confidence which he spoke with. I mean, come on, man! I’m not an ignorant laborer who accepts blindly whatever doctor says (unless it was Doctor House, and even then, I would ask all the whys). There is always an alternative treatment, so don’t dare come to tell me in my face there’s no choice but to cut.
So far, I had been able to emotionally handle all this, by becoming proactive in the face of catastrophe, looking up information on the web, looking for some other doctor for a second opinion, etc., but today my psychology just crashed face-flat on the floor. Probably it is just a trick of my stupid brain due to the bad news, but I have been feeling that nothing is what I had imagined. You know the usual stuff: I’m stuck in a dull job, my budget is always so reduced, my brain is about to die due to lack of stimuli, yadah, yadah, yadah, and now, just to cap it all, I’m sick, not beyond all hope, but seriously enough to make me feel like crap. This is nothing of what I had dreamed for my life at this age…
There is a positive side, though. It’s not cancer, to get started, and there are options, and my family is being oh so supportive. I do see the good things, but I’m on the verge of depression.
Maybe I should try to post the sonograms, to look at them like this weirdo who donated her sick heart to an exhibit, and lived to tell the tale. Just for fun, and let the fear all pass over and through me, so when it has passed, I'll find myself again.
Everything began with a medical issue. As many working adults, I found myself suffering from the infamous condition know as “colitis”, which causes abdominal pain for starters (the other symptoms are so disgusting I don’t dare mentioning them, but if you are over 22, you may as well be pretty familiar with them). Therefore, I had to start a series of medical exams, and taking an amount of pills that any addict would find offensive. But nothing serious, not really serious; therefore, so far so good.
But the real problem arised a couple of weeks ago, when one of the routine sonographies showed gallstones, this tiny but dreadful white solid shadows inside the gall bladder, a view to give any one the cripples, especially when the technician goes on with his job without uttering a single word. (I’ve heard cases of chatty technicians scaring some patients to death with a misinterpretation, but I’d rather take that than stony silence). For his misfortune, I’ve seen enough sonograms to detect what shouldn’t be there, and the diagnosis was confirmed by my doctor last Sunday, who told me with this odiously sweet and paternalist smile that I require to be cut in half with a cost between $14,000 to $19,000 pesos (that’s around $1,261.01 to $1,711.36 USCy), which there is not the slightest chance I may be able to gather in the near nor the distant future.
What really made me go ballistic was the absolute confidence which he spoke with. I mean, come on, man! I’m not an ignorant laborer who accepts blindly whatever doctor says (unless it was Doctor House, and even then, I would ask all the whys). There is always an alternative treatment, so don’t dare come to tell me in my face there’s no choice but to cut.
So far, I had been able to emotionally handle all this, by becoming proactive in the face of catastrophe, looking up information on the web, looking for some other doctor for a second opinion, etc., but today my psychology just crashed face-flat on the floor. Probably it is just a trick of my stupid brain due to the bad news, but I have been feeling that nothing is what I had imagined. You know the usual stuff: I’m stuck in a dull job, my budget is always so reduced, my brain is about to die due to lack of stimuli, yadah, yadah, yadah, and now, just to cap it all, I’m sick, not beyond all hope, but seriously enough to make me feel like crap. This is nothing of what I had dreamed for my life at this age…
There is a positive side, though. It’s not cancer, to get started, and there are options, and my family is being oh so supportive. I do see the good things, but I’m on the verge of depression.
Maybe I should try to post the sonograms, to look at them like this weirdo who donated her sick heart to an exhibit, and lived to tell the tale. Just for fun, and let the fear all pass over and through me, so when it has passed, I'll find myself again.
