Gettin ready for the weekend’s steel fencing. Of course the doctor said something about laser — wow! she just know how to make things sound even more complicated and — err painful. Thank God for the discovery of Anesthesia, i wonder how some treatment, like — ehem — surgery?, would advance had anesthesia was not discovered. Hospital corridors would be like a clean prototype of a standard A slaughterhouse.
“Welcome! to the world of bleating patients and growling physicians. **in this case — you’d be thanking heavens for the invention of A/C…
coz at least, u can bleat in your own privacy as the doctor sticks his hand on your stomach by inserting his finger through your nose. waaahhh… oh wait — anesthesia comes before a/c — hahah!
anesthesia was introduced around 1840s. Before that, patients are expected to whimper in pain or suck it up like a gentleman. “Uhh, excuse me Mr. Bunny, but I have to take your intestines out to clean them — it’s gonna be uncomfortable — but you’ll live” …I’d rather choose death.
This makes me grateful to my mom — SHE, who gave birth to me in this era and age of aesthetics and superficiality. Where everything is ready to wear and over the counter. Where there is beer to cure certain heartaches and TV to entertain the sad. Where giving birth can be as easy as one-two-three (or something… it is not life if it ain’t painful in some ways…and giving birth is giving forth new life — literally)
Well, may I gently remind you that I am a mother of FOUR. I mean, how could you expect me to give birth without any pain medication. It’s gonna be like giving birth to a watermelon… OR—NOOOOO ! — it’s gonna be like spurting out a condo building, with Olympic-sized swimming poolS and parking spaces (with parked SUVs and buses), not to mention rooftops and balconies…who knows! the annoying guard with his gun, along with the town’s carabao might come out too!
In the olden times, I think they get you drunk or use opium — great… a legitimate reason to be a drunk or an addict.
After grunting a whole community of soon-to-be scientists and world leaders, you’d be lucky to survive with anything intact…
“oh you’d sew them for me? — no thank you” —
“you insist?! thank you but no — im fine with the gaping hOle in my stomach– the doctor slashing it with an axe did a good job of introducing pain, I don’t need you poking me with that needle you just heated in the furnace….”
” oh no –please, I’ll kill you if you touch me!!!”
I’m a scaredy cat when it comes to hospitals.
My brother does medical missions every year and i could just remember the stacks of supply in my dad’s home. Stacks of IVs, catether, needles, meds, etc…that hasn’t been used and was just stocked there till the next mission schedule. It was, in my eyes then, very very interesting — but when you have someone who knows how to manipulate the syringe and is doing so to instill fear in you — it can be traumatizing as well.
Those wittle machines you see in the ER are but an appliance we commonly use at home. That’s why i feel at home in ERs — no — when I say I feel like its home, it’s not the same thing as being comfortable. It just means, I’m no stranger to the apparatus — I am, in many ways, unfriendly towards it.
Those machines and apparatus could be so cold sometimes, invading your inner most privacy that sometimes it makes you think if it is actually reading and translating your thoughts in various frequencies.
Spent half of my life in hospitals where my check up interval were spaced between weeks and admission is a constant requirement every month. My sorry ass stays in the hospital bed for days and I go home almost always not knowing what really happened.
The doctor dont talk to me…my mom doesn’t, my dad is somewhere in the States, my brother doesnt know anything and I didn’t ask…
I don’t know why — confinement seems as if its the normal thing to do before- a small fever, a gentle cough, difficulty in breathing — often results to a cbc test and IV insertion with half of my family and neighbors worried to death…
I remember I was admitted during an exam week — and it was the finals… and I remember, almost crawling my way to the 5th Floor — for someone who can’t even stand straight- that was not a very enthusiastic experience for me…needless to say, I was not a happy camper when I reach my destination. Oh how did I manage to walk? i wasn’t walking — my ex husband dragged me to insanity till i budged a little…
And so with my exploits in the white halls of the sick, I am not that happy that I’m visiting the dentist this sunday. At least, her office is not white, and it is always full of cheerful people. Except for that monstrous needle she needs to poke my gums with…I’m fine…–well –if only she could take that stainless thingie she has on her platter of torture, I’d be ok. oh– and If only she’d do it silently without the light chatter coz it makes me nervous. She needs to concentrate — *breathes deep — inhale.exhale. It’s gonna be alright.
I think I’m in good hands…
(but I’ll drag my mom with me…just to be sure.)