To hurt or not to hurt, that is not the question…

I, like most people I know, hate uncertainty… and the few days after the biopsy, I spent my suspense-ridden time attempting to obtain more information about the possibilities that could emerge from the analysis. Big mistake, not everything I happened to read needed to be taken seriously, but the more I read, the scarier the picture began to look… finally my wait ended, but the agony didn’t…

Ok, the biopsy showed no malignancy…

I should be elated ! But I’m not…. the biopsy showed that P had cervical tuberculous lymphadenitis… for normal English-speaking human beings like us, It means possibly infectious glandular TB.

When the doctor described the treatment, we knew the battle lines had been drawn… The doctor spoke with as much compassion as he could, despite the insensitivity that decades of medical practice would have blessed him with. He said that P would have to take a six to nine month regimen of drugs that had side effects that could alter your body for good. He said that to address the immediate issue of swellings in the lymph
nodes, P would have to be given a Deep Intramuscular Injection of Streptomycin every day for 30 days. I thought I was going to break something. He said it would be something you could get used to, and that most people get through without major issues. I asked him what the major issues could be… and decided immediately that I shouldn’t have asked.

The journey home was silent… no tears… no emotions… no answers… just loads of questions that we didn’t want to ask…

We discussed a few things, tried to laugh at inconsequential things… failing miserably. This was the most uncomfortable evening of my life… I wanted to go somewhere else…I wished I could be teleported into outer space, where I could scream everything out of my system and not worry about sound travelling… but at that moment, I wasn’t important.

Now that we knew what we needed to do… there was little to talk about… I tried joking, laughing, singing, and each time ended up sneaking
out of the room to wipe my tears and drift back pretending I could continue my charade. P knew this wasn’t working, but played along, probably not wanting to show me how badly I was doing… it made me feel even more miserable, and later much later I sat in my balcony facing the empty hills that, before that night always seemed to cheer me up… this time nothing could change the way I was feeling. I made myself a drink and ended my evening with it… not because alcohol makes you feel better… because after a point, you feel less… I wanted to feel nothing…

The next day started as usual, I broke a toenail and bled all over the bedroom floor… Went to work and witnessed a spectacular short-circuit and a power-cut that made us shut shop and leave for the day… somehow nothing seemed to surprise, startle or stun me anymore…

The five minutes I spent last evening waiting for the injection to be administered will register as the five most unwanted minutes of my life…

No, I’m not depressed… I’m not sad… these are emotions you generally feel for and within yourself… I don’t know what this is… but it hurts… big
time…

You know if I had to make a wish right now, what it would be ?

I would wish I was the one feeling the pain now…

I don’t know how… but for the millionth time… I’m going to pull through… and I’m going to do everything I can, humanly possible or otherwise… to help P get back to normal… better than normal, goddammit… better than normal, I swear…

[Disclaimer: This is one of the posts from my first ever blog, that is now defunct. Though amateur, and in some cases silly, I did want to retain an archive of everything I have ever written in the blogosphere. Thank you for your patience]