Life goes on

The aches that I used to complain about, have turned to an electric shock kind of sensation- similar to the kind that one has when the funny bone is tapped right. Maybe this is an opportunity to replicate the funny bone in other body parts. Have more reason to laugh.

Only, the intensity of tingling is no longer ticklish, it is painful. Imagine being subjected to tiny electric shocks throughout your day. I am convinced this is a preparatory- for the serious torture in store for me in the future? Maybe in police custody- after all the Slumdog scene did not come out of nothing.

Thank God no one is blaming my overactive imagination, even though I have one.
I do hate it when people doubt my ability to differentiate between real and imaginary. Upsets me more than much else.

The tests confirm neuropathy. Says the GP.

He is good- I like him.

Actually, I choose to go to him because of his holistic approach. He is the kind who can appreciate that the 5 minute exercise and 15 minutes of meditation mean an hour of peace- difficult to find in the life styles we are moving towards. He has a lateral thinking, metaphorical expression which I find helpful instead of the “take this medicine and don't ask too many questions” approach.

I am inclined to see my problems arise from stresser situations.The physical ones too- after all the body is a reflection of the mind.

So I ask him how serious the problem is, because the tests are showing some pretty obviously alarming results.

That sets him off, “People who have seen a lot of this and that and have faced difficulties tend to worry. This can cause some changes to happen in the mind. But anxiety cannot help.”

That makes sense- generally speaking, I am thinking.

But specifically, in the real world where I have this painful sensation in the ring finger of my left hand, I need some real stuff to feel reassured.

But now the discomfort is beginning to show in his face. He does look more anxious than I think I feel.

He is darting private looks at my husband. As private as one can make it when all of us are sitting within a 3 feet radious and I am able to see his face and my husband's as well. I think he is seeking some guidance from one who knows her well, one of those "How much truth can the little woman take?" kind of query evident in his eyes.

No help there- husband's face is deadpan. He is listening very attentively- because I have reminded him, just before we set off for the clinic, of how well I take care of him when he is ill. And he wants to do well by me.

Now the poor GP has to decide about how much of the truth he is going to share.

I feel pity well up in my bosom. Usually I am the one who is listening about his advice for my husband, and that is easier than finding out stuff about myself. Something on my face worries him Maybe it is the worry showing up.

The GP gets blubbery-he tries again, opening with an “It is nothing.”

But he is a good guy, and this is not the whole truth. I want him to tell me that the TSH and homocysteine high is actually okay- nothing to worry about. Which I know for a fact is not possible. But I am no longer the reasonable care provider- I am not feeling well.

The GP is indignant now. If I don't address the problem, I might loose speech and sensation and such like. He says. Husband maintains the deadpan face- and I am deeply unhappy with this exchange now.

I can even acknowledge some despair in myself. It spills out as sarcasm- Is that all? Loss of speech and inability to use limbs is not something I should be worried about?

And then the GP loses it all, “See how the kasai cuts meat? Does he think of the animals who are being killed? He just goes ahead and chops- because that is his job!!”.

What the hell is he saying? I am now feeling like the animal under the chopping knife, and I am not detached from this situation.

Or maybe I am. because there seems little point in probing further. The GP is looking helpless. He has given up- on trying to explain, I mean.

The only decision I can take now is to take the medicine he has advised, and look elsewhere for emotional comfort, or better scientific understanding.

My blood pressure is very low- which helps. It is difficult to get really agitated at that level.

I think I need some strength to deal with this situation. I try to argue with the husband on the way home. That usually charges me up,sort of. But he gets more rattled than me. Poor guy- he has no escape- unlike the GP who can collect his fees and pack me off.

We are going home- to be together for ever. Or for as long as I live- and there is a vicious satisfaction in the picture of my husband taking care of helpless wife.

In the next 30 seconds my mood swings.

I am wallowing in self pity over the representatives of the medical profession in my life. How is it that I am drawn to these types - there is my psychaitrist whose other patients are clearly more needy than me. There was the doctor in Ayurvaidyasala, who pointed me to some people who are more unfortunate and whose plight is worse. A homeopath who I try to consult on phone as she lives in Bhopal. She is great when she is able to connect- but sometimes I cannot reach her on phone for months- and she says- yahi prarabdh hai hamara.(This is our destiny!!)

I think I should call Bahadur Uncle. He says his mind is wandering these days. I'm thinking, at his age I suppose I shall be happy to have a mind at all. And he has responded to the telpehone on the second ring. We talk about a friend who passed away recently. Thank God he died in his sleep. We shall pass too. But Bahadur Uncle's mind is not wandering aimlessly- he is thinking of Ghalib,

इक तेरी दीद  छिन  गयी मुझसे
वरना दुनिया में क्या नहीं बाकी

That makes more sense than the scientific stuff that medical reports are made of- I mean some significant things will not be there- like maybe I shall lose the ability to speak, and do things with some limbs but life shall go on.