Since my 15 years old that I have (or had) a health problem. I’ve got used and lived with it until today. On each year passing the quality of life had always an exponential decrease. Soon I had a restricted diet, but you know better than nobody that sometimes we break the diet. It’s not easy to go to a restaurant and do not know what to eat. I’ve always avoid the weird names on the menu and sometimes I asked to the waiter which specific condiments the food had.
There was times that I didn’t knew that I will got ill. I remember the day I’ve started the master degree. My mother has made a delicious soup with white beans for diner. White beans… Today I run away from them as the devil runs away from the cross. Another memorable day, a MOO dinner (the last dinner, not lunch), while socializing I’ve drunk a vodka. Vodka… I’ve passed around 10 hours in the hospital in the next day. While attending the SofExtrusion 2004 at Algarve, I’ve drunk some red wine while I was dinning with my boss. We were in the Pestana Hotel (5 *) at Alvor. 5 days of conference it was like 5 days of nightmares. In the last night, I went to the emergency and remained there more than 24 hours. Don’t blame me, I just wanted to visit Portimão and stay another night in that luxurious hotel. Well the white wine had the same effect, 4 days before to go to USA I’ve made a little visit to the emergency. Then the doctors have decided for a surgical treatment.
I always though that problem was my weakness but today it is my strength. Many of you know that I’ve got a surgery 2 months ago (finally) but just a few knows what the problem was. It’s a fuck to can not eat, drink and… other stuff.
We were 4 people, 3 old men (around 60/70 years old) and me, a young woman. Usually it’s always first the ladies, but this time I was the last one. The nurses were always singing childish music to relax the patients. I was not afraid and seconds before the anesthesia I’ve asked to the nurses who was the doctor that will operate me. “Do you want to see him?!” she asked. “Yes, of course”, I’ve replied. The doctor came and looked to me without saying a word and I’ve said “Just do a good job; let the things pretty because I’m still a single woman.” I do not remember their reaction; I had no time to see it before to fall asleep.
I’ve woke up in the hell. A fat nurse told me “try to be calm, take deep breaths.” “I’m calm. Just give me something for the pains”, I said. “You are already medicated unless I put you in coma again!” she replied. The doctor arrived and she was explaining that I was to much agitate and didn’t know what to do to help me. At this time 2 guys approach to me, one injecting some stuff in my veins and the other one doing the same thing but in my ass. The doctor said to the nurse “No wonder why she is agitate, you do not want to do what she has done.”
The pains calm down but I’ve realized that I need to control a spasm. Until that day I didn’t know I had frequent spasms in such region. Each spasm took me back to hell. And you wonder how we control spasm… I don’t know, I’ve made the impossible to avoid them. I could not asleep at night with afraid of having a spasm. They took me to the bedroom where my mother was waiting for me. I really don’t want know what my mother saw into my eyes. She burst into tears. And yes… seeing her crying, I’ve cried too of weakness.
Today I’m fine, but I have not recovered yet. I’ve a fucking diet which is cereals at the breakfast, soup at lunch and soup at dinner, until the doctor changes his mind.
Today I’ve received a letter with no remitter. Funny… they have used the prefix Dr.a. Inside there was a CD with a single letter written on it… T.
“T?! I don’t believe… It can not be! Well, if it is what I’m thinking let see the show.” I’ve received a SMS saying “Have fun and laugh on watching it.”
I’ve watched the movies (some 80’s amateur tape). I did not laugh and I did not have fun. I’ve cried. I’ve replied to the SMS “I never done such things but I know what the pains are. The bastard should have a bullet in the brain.” I’ve taken about 30 minutes to stop crying and begin to write this message.
A special message for someone: “Do you understand why people were protecting me?!”
n.b. The sentence "The bastard should have a bullet in the brain." is a bad translation from the Portuguese sentence "O gajo merecia morrer com uma bala no meio da cornadura."
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