So Things Don’t Always Go Your Way…

September 19, 2007 at 6:07 pm | Posted in Me + Myself + I | 1 Comment
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I was asked to see the physician again yesterday. I was inwardly thankful that we were late on the appointment, partly because I now had time to browse through the magazines that they had stocked up in the waiting room and partly because I was dreading about what would happen when I entered the doctor’s chamber.

I was called in. The doctor asked for the previous reports and examined them. He called a subordinate and told me that I was going to have an ECG-or-something-I-can’t-remember test. The subordinate (she looked about 25) took me in a smaller room. Then she measured the blood pressure (I was fascinated by the instrument). Then she told me that I was about to have that ECG-something, and told me to take off my top.

I undressed and then lay back down. The woman started attaching broad blue stripes to my feet and wrists. On asking her what they were, she told me they were electrodes. I was horrified. ‘Electrodes? You mean you’re going to need an electric circuit? For what?’ She told me that they needed those for the test and the circuit was needed, but not for shocks, as I had feared. Then she put some sticky gluey sort of thing on my chest. All the while I was raining questions on her and I could tell she was starting to get faintly annoyed. Then five or six metallic balls were implanted on my left breast. I was not able to shake off the feeling that this had something to do with electric shocks, whatever the woman told me, and expected current any moment. The woman switched on the machine, but I didn’t get a shock. I was relieved, the test was over. And then I had another one, an X Ray test.

There was still the blood test. They always have trouble with me at every blood test: my vein is quite elusive; they have such a job locating the exact position of the vein to extract blood from. I’ve had my blood taken from me so many times before, but the sight of the long needle still used to unnerve me every time I went to get a blood test. But yesterday I was surprised to know that I wasn’t in the least bit scared. I didn’t turn away when they moved the tip towards the vein. I watched the needle touch and pierce through my skin’s surface, then the blood being drawn through. I was done.

I collected the medical reports today. My obsessive optimism had sustained me, but the problems refused to subside.
The Antisterptolysin O Titre reads 1063, but it actually should not exceed 200. My Edythrocyte sedimentation rate is 40 mm per hour, while in normal cases it is under 15.

The doctor has told me start the injections afresh. I’ve got to continue taking them until I’m twenty five (nine years to go).

I can endure watching my own blood being injected from me quietly. I don’t know if it’s strange or something but I think I quite enjoy the pain. It’s almost like being tickled. But when it’s a case of injecting something in the bloodstream, the pain is nothing like tickling. It’s agony. And the injections that a rheumatic fever patient has to take, are especially dreadful. The needle isn’t like ordinary needles but extraordinarily thick and long. I hated those injections and I shudder to think how I’m going to get through them every month from now on.

Penidura injection, a Number 21 needle. Dreaded words.

But things can be worse.

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