The Four Letters
So today ended up as being another day spent in queue after queue after queue. Okay well, not the whole day, just half of it.
What am I talking about?
UMMC again. Oh those torture chambers, just gotta love them.
Now how do you figure that no bad news IS bad news?
Since I got back from Beijing, I've been getting these little incidents involving trouble breathing, chest pains, light headedness and nausea (no, AM NOT PREGNANT) weight loss (see, NOT PREGNANT) sinister cramps and most scary, constant numbness on my left side.
Naturally, me being the super extreme ultimate hypochondriac that I am, I made a fuss. And that was what lead to all these sudden and frequent trips to the hospital.
This time I was stuck with heartless Hart in my wait. Not very pleasant. I might as well have died on that severely molested part-pvc part-metal thing they called seats.
The only motivation to live: I wanted to know what was killing me. Not all that great, I know, but the curiosity to it all was killing me already, so I figured what the hell, right?
Thirst and hunger kick in.
I walked to the teeny tiny 7-11 thingy (bearing in mind last night's incident - being very careful not to assault whosoever worked this here joint) hoping against hope they'd have something decent, or at the least halfway decent. (the thought of salmon didn't even enter my mind btw)
And they had?
Nothing. Zilch. Nada. Zip.
Absolutely pathetic.
So I walked away in disgust.
Well no, not in disgust. I kinda saw that one coming actually. I just walked to the next place that sold things edible: a fruit/vege stand.
Three things happened:
1. My order of mixed fruit juice was blotched up by a dude who couldn't tell fruits and veges apart. Yo idiot, one set grows on the ground, the other grows on trees!!!
2. Couldn't buy ONE banana. I wanted ONE banana. JUST ONE. Dude wouldn't let me. Can't buy JUST ONE. When the sign is marked 35¢ per 100g, correct me if I'm wrong, isn't it possible to just pluck ONE out and measure its weight against that and charge me accordingly. WTF??!
3. Settled for half a dragon fruit. It must've been the grandfather of all dragons or something, because... well, let's just say it had no signs of being fit for consumption. Told the dude off when he tried to come up with excuses for the deceased and decomposed dragon slice. I'm just so fond of yelling lately. Fun fun.
Though I appreciate the value of fruits and veges, I just had to get my much much needed dosage of industrial type sugar. CANDY.
When you've been needing sugar like a druggie needing a fix, you'd do whatever it takes to get your dose. Seriously.
I got, while cursing - once loudly, and then many many times under my breath (because of the stares I got) - Snickers and Picnic at RM3.30 each. And I remember paying ¥2.90 for them in Beijing. What's that? Like RM1.30? Fuck hospitals.
You know, I'm not even cursing because it's fun anymore.
It's not like it's one of the fun I've been missing all this while, I REALLY AM JUST SO FRUSTRATED.
Nope, not because of the coming exams, not because of the events of three weeks, but rather because I'm just too tired. Too worn out.
This morning my nose bled while I was in the shower. That was when I noticed more mysterious bruises on my person. And that my hair was falling out. And that my tube of STRAWBERRY FLAVORED COLGATE was missing from its usual station (because a certain sibling ran out of his and was too cheap ass to buy a new tube)
And then I found out that somebody had been nicking at my bottle of cheese spread. I hadn't so much as tasted it, and the bottle was already empty. Somebody had at it, and returned an empty bottle to the fridge. Nice.
And then I found out that my cactus had been run over again.
And then I found out... oh fuck this.
Anyway, after an hour of waiting, they finally called my number, in I go for my consult.
My blood test results came back as normal (as normal ever can be for me). No toxicity. No abnormal TSH markers. Nothing. Echo and ECG charts came back bearing the same news.
I AM HEALTHY. (as healthy as can be for me)
And because I am so healthy, they have decided to send me off to the specialist clinic.
Like that will ever make sense, I'll explain.
I went feeling like I was dying, the doctor has even acknowledged that I was exhibiting symptoms akin to death (I'm just being dramatic here) AND YET TEST RESULTS SHOW OTHERWISE.
So no bad news equals bad news. We can't figure out what's wrong with me.
Besides that, Dr. R who was doing my consult started briefing me on methods of managing my condition.
I've been briefed many a time before, only this time it was the first I've seen it done by a doctor who was actually smiling. And that was scary shit.
Those who've read my blog in the days of livejournal will know how much I fear these three letters (and why):
RAI.
RadioActive Iodine.
Yeah, sure, sounds like something right out of a comic book page. Sounds cool. Could this be the famous Chemical-X which lead to the birth of Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice Powerpuff Girls?
Yeah I wish.
The damn chemical will burn off my entire gland, the whole thing, till nothing (and nothing at all) is left thus rendering me hypo- (as opposed to now hyper-) Which means I'll need to be taking thyroxines for the rest of my life. Doesn't sound like much fun now does it?
The horror does not end just there.
I'll be harboring within and emitting from my body radioactive waves for at least six months!!! Dude, though that may sound superhero (or supervillain) worthy, but I am SO NOT looking forward to a six month period of quarantine! I'd kill myself on the second day maybe.
"But dude, you'd like have superpowers and all! Righteous!!!"
Kepala hotak kau.
In the first month after treatment, my body will be emitting so much radiation that my piss will glow in the dark and I'd be able to kill fetuses by just standing next to pregnant women.
Okay, I made up the former. But the latter is fact.
And along with that super awesome radioactivity comes so many other wonderful life altering complications. To list them down will make the entry so much longer than it already is. RAI just depresses me.
But I have to appreciate, this is truly a catch-22. All I get to do is to choose my mode of departure.
The most important question is:
why should I choose to want to live a longer life if I wouldn't be alive at all?
So that the people who love me will get to see more of me?
Bullshit.
Right now, every single day is a battle against the thought of wanting to die (careful, I didn't say "of wanting to kill myself") Never underestimate how difficult it can be to maintain the will to live once your body starts giving up on you.
But on the other hand, never underestimate the power of dreams.
I am living still because I am still waiting for that one moment in life, one moment no matter how short or brief, that would last a lifetime and will make living through all this worth it.
Just that one moment.
And until then, Dr. R, I'm gonna start my campaign.
fuck RAI.
FRAI.
What am I talking about?
UMMC again. Oh those torture chambers, just gotta love them.
Now how do you figure that no bad news IS bad news?
Since I got back from Beijing, I've been getting these little incidents involving trouble breathing, chest pains, light headedness and nausea (no, AM NOT PREGNANT) weight loss (see, NOT PREGNANT) sinister cramps and most scary, constant numbness on my left side.
Naturally, me being the super extreme ultimate hypochondriac that I am, I made a fuss. And that was what lead to all these sudden and frequent trips to the hospital.
This time I was stuck with heartless Hart in my wait. Not very pleasant. I might as well have died on that severely molested part-pvc part-metal thing they called seats.
The only motivation to live: I wanted to know what was killing me. Not all that great, I know, but the curiosity to it all was killing me already, so I figured what the hell, right?
Thirst and hunger kick in.
I walked to the teeny tiny 7-11 thingy (bearing in mind last night's incident - being very careful not to assault whosoever worked this here joint) hoping against hope they'd have something decent, or at the least halfway decent. (the thought of salmon didn't even enter my mind btw)
And they had?
Nothing. Zilch. Nada. Zip.
Absolutely pathetic.
So I walked away in disgust.
Well no, not in disgust. I kinda saw that one coming actually. I just walked to the next place that sold things edible: a fruit/vege stand.
Three things happened:
1. My order of mixed fruit juice was blotched up by a dude who couldn't tell fruits and veges apart. Yo idiot, one set grows on the ground, the other grows on trees!!!
2. Couldn't buy ONE banana. I wanted ONE banana. JUST ONE. Dude wouldn't let me. Can't buy JUST ONE. When the sign is marked 35¢ per 100g, correct me if I'm wrong, isn't it possible to just pluck ONE out and measure its weight against that and charge me accordingly. WTF??!
3. Settled for half a dragon fruit. It must've been the grandfather of all dragons or something, because... well, let's just say it had no signs of being fit for consumption. Told the dude off when he tried to come up with excuses for the deceased and decomposed dragon slice. I'm just so fond of yelling lately. Fun fun.
Though I appreciate the value of fruits and veges, I just had to get my much much needed dosage of industrial type sugar. CANDY.
When you've been needing sugar like a druggie needing a fix, you'd do whatever it takes to get your dose. Seriously.
I got, while cursing - once loudly, and then many many times under my breath (because of the stares I got) - Snickers and Picnic at RM3.30 each. And I remember paying ¥2.90 for them in Beijing. What's that? Like RM1.30? Fuck hospitals.
You know, I'm not even cursing because it's fun anymore.
It's not like it's one of the fun I've been missing all this while, I REALLY AM JUST SO FRUSTRATED.
Nope, not because of the coming exams, not because of the events of three weeks, but rather because I'm just too tired. Too worn out.
This morning my nose bled while I was in the shower. That was when I noticed more mysterious bruises on my person. And that my hair was falling out. And that my tube of STRAWBERRY FLAVORED COLGATE was missing from its usual station (because a certain sibling ran out of his and was too cheap ass to buy a new tube)
And then I found out that somebody had been nicking at my bottle of cheese spread. I hadn't so much as tasted it, and the bottle was already empty. Somebody had at it, and returned an empty bottle to the fridge. Nice.
And then I found out that my cactus had been run over again.
And then I found out... oh fuck this.
Anyway, after an hour of waiting, they finally called my number, in I go for my consult.
My blood test results came back as normal (as normal ever can be for me). No toxicity. No abnormal TSH markers. Nothing. Echo and ECG charts came back bearing the same news.
I AM HEALTHY. (as healthy as can be for me)
And because I am so healthy, they have decided to send me off to the specialist clinic.
Like that will ever make sense, I'll explain.
I went feeling like I was dying, the doctor has even acknowledged that I was exhibiting symptoms akin to death (I'm just being dramatic here) AND YET TEST RESULTS SHOW OTHERWISE.
So no bad news equals bad news. We can't figure out what's wrong with me.
Besides that, Dr. R who was doing my consult started briefing me on methods of managing my condition.
I've been briefed many a time before, only this time it was the first I've seen it done by a doctor who was actually smiling. And that was scary shit.
Those who've read my blog in the days of livejournal will know how much I fear these three letters (and why):
RAI.
RadioActive Iodine.
Yeah, sure, sounds like something right out of a comic book page. Sounds cool. Could this be the famous Chemical-X which lead to the birth of Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice Powerpuff Girls?
Yeah I wish.
The damn chemical will burn off my entire gland, the whole thing, till nothing (and nothing at all) is left thus rendering me hypo- (as opposed to now hyper-) Which means I'll need to be taking thyroxines for the rest of my life. Doesn't sound like much fun now does it?
The horror does not end just there.
I'll be harboring within and emitting from my body radioactive waves for at least six months!!! Dude, though that may sound superhero (or supervillain) worthy, but I am SO NOT looking forward to a six month period of quarantine! I'd kill myself on the second day maybe.
"But dude, you'd like have superpowers and all! Righteous!!!"
Kepala hotak kau.
In the first month after treatment, my body will be emitting so much radiation that my piss will glow in the dark and I'd be able to kill fetuses by just standing next to pregnant women.
Okay, I made up the former. But the latter is fact.
And along with that super awesome radioactivity comes so many other wonderful life altering complications. To list them down will make the entry so much longer than it already is. RAI just depresses me.
But I have to appreciate, this is truly a catch-22. All I get to do is to choose my mode of departure.
The most important question is:
why should I choose to want to live a longer life if I wouldn't be alive at all?
So that the people who love me will get to see more of me?
Bullshit.
Right now, every single day is a battle against the thought of wanting to die (careful, I didn't say "of wanting to kill myself") Never underestimate how difficult it can be to maintain the will to live once your body starts giving up on you.
But on the other hand, never underestimate the power of dreams.
I am living still because I am still waiting for that one moment in life, one moment no matter how short or brief, that would last a lifetime and will make living through all this worth it.
Just that one moment.
And until then, Dr. R, I'm gonna start my campaign.
fuck RAI.
FRAI.
