I’m sick. And I am tired of being sick.
For about six months now, I am sick. I have been in and out of the hospital and couldn’t quite keep up with my medical bills. I had become a regular with my doctor’s office I can now literally distinguish her breath from the nurses.
Along with other doctors, we have tried to eliminate every possible disease, infection, or whatever thing that is causing my body to feel this way.
I am now quite familiar with that tickling pain every needle had to go through to go over that fine layer of skin, to get that precious little red drops of blood, and be checked, quite continuously, for new stuff.
And every time they send it to lab, we, my doctor and I would cross our fingers and hope that finally, we could figure it all out. So that in turn, she could give me the right prescription.
For how can they give me the right medication if they don’t know what’s wrong with me? It’s pretty much like giving me Tylenol for my recurring headaches but not really sure what’s causing my head to hurt. Short relief. Not much of a help.
I’m tired. I am sick of being tired.
I’m tired of all the pills I had to swallow everyday. The fear of the consequence of not taking them is heavier than the fear of other things that those pesky powerful pills might do to my stomach.
Different colors, shapes and sizes. Each variety carries an extra add-on to my weak immune system, more side effects. Thanks to those pills, at my age, I now officially have asthma and high-blood pressure as well. That was on top of my early signs of gout. They still give me a few sets of inhalers to maintain my now weakened lungs. They are now also trying to monitor my heart. Pretty soon my brain would follow suit.
After that I don’t exactly know.
With all these technology that we have, I couldn’t accept the idea why they couldn’t quite figure out what I have. They initially rounded-up the usual suspects: whooping cough, bronchitis, pneumonia, tuberculosis, laryngitis, heart disease. They even drum-rolled some of the diseases with exotic names that I am not familiar with, but they eventually cleared them all.
They kept on telling me the presence of too much white blood cells in my body, indicative that it somehow is fighting an infection. The thing is, they couldn’t figure out what infection.
Maybe after I’m dead, they would finally figure out what is?