Go back to beginning – ‘The First Symptoms’ Go up to – ‘Angry lymph nodes’
Go back to previous post – ‘Feeling bloated anyone?’
A week goes by and things don’t change much.
The urgency to go to the toilet a thousand times a day is still here, and it exasperates the heck out of me. Most of the times all I can manage are a few drops, but the good news is that the pain is gone. It only lasted for a couple of days and it has now vanished.
Pain-free and royally annoyed, I’m thinking of inventive ways to save me from all this running around.
I pick up the phone and talk to my friend, Madalena. I tell her all about my ‘urinary infection’ and I ask – ‘By the way! Do they sell over-sized Pampers in Tesco’s? I badly need some!’
I laugh too.
Neither of us understands how serious this is.
And so, wishing I was wearing Pampers and bursting through the bathroom doors a lot more often than normal, I go on with my life.
A few days later I notice something else. It’s a very subtle change, initially barely noticeable.
My pelvic area, the lower abdomen, feels bloated.
Pumped up a little, and a little too firm.
It feels a bit as if you’ve just finished eating your Christmas dinner with luscious turkey and sweet and crispy roast potatoes. This thing is nothing like the real dinner though, it doesn’t make you sleepy and the gifts it brings are a far cry from your ‘Dear Santa’ list. Quite the contrary, but let’s not digress.
The puffy belly is not a constant. It comes and goes and fluctuates with the passing hours of the day.
The best times are in the mornings, right after you’ve woken up. The stomach is empty, the abdomen is lean, and everything seems just fine and dandy.
I remember one of those days, waking up and thinking, – ‘Yay! Thank you, God! The bloating is gone!’
But I have nothing to thank about, this is only an illusion and the bloating always comes back.
The evenings are the worst. I don’t eat much, (or at all), and I don’t know if eating has anything to do with it, but there’s no question about it. Later in the evening my belly is a growing puff. Round and smooth, it feels too firm for comfort.
But it’s also painless.
This puffy ball doesn’t hurt.
(Which is a very clever move from the part of It. It hides It and it makes It much easier to be ignored. For longer, and longer until It spreads far enough to kill you).
I’m not there yet, and since right now there’s nothing hurting me, I feel safe in my complete disregarding of symptom after symptom.
After all, what am I dealing with here?
A bit of a toilet trouble and a bit of a puffy belly.
Not much to be worried about, right?
women from all over the world,
if you’re reading this, know that I was terribly wrong.
The urgency to go to the toilet more often than normal coupled with a bloated abdomen that does not go away for more than 2 weeks are causes of very serious concern.
You know your own body ladies better than anyone else, and if you don’t feel ‘quite right’, even if it’s only because of a bloated abdomen, go to the doctors!
And don’t let them tell you have an indigestion and send you back home. That’s not what you need!
What you need is a scan, a specialist gynecologist and a few blood tests. I’ll tell you everything about it at a later time).
But there is nobody here to advise me and I let things go deeper and deeper.
Most of the times, when I look back on my life I think of it as being worthless.
A long list of failures and broken dreams.
While young and vibrant I have never accomplished anything remarkable, and take a good look at me now!
I’m 48, living in a rented attic, alone, no husband, no family, no children to bring joy to and take care of, and for God’s sake, not even a fluffy cat to meow my days around.
There are, of course, reasons for such an underperformance, and some of the reasons are solid, and some are completely out of my control. Let’s just say that Fate did play a role and I was never lucky.
But Fate is only one side of the problem, and also an excuse.
I have decided to fight Fate back and become a real person, a person like all of you.
I have plans!
I’m working so hard to change it all, I’m racing against time and counting every second. I want a house, (or at least a bigger place to rent), a mortgage, bills on my own name, a job, a real job and the right to work, a bank account and a full identity.
I am now, and have been for the past 15 years, only half of a person. I want to be like you, complete and worthy!
I want this so badly, I’m almost killing myself.
I spend 15 hours a day, every day, on my computer. When things around me go blurry, my eyes hurt and my hands tremble, I tell to myself – ‘push yourself, Andrea! One more! Let’s just finish one more, and after that you can take a break!’
Shaking and in pain, I go on working.
I barely eat anything and I smoke like a chimney.
My mobile phone is switched off, most of my friends have long ago given up on me and I’m becoming a true hermit. Completely isolated from everyone else.
I miss them, my friends, and I miss being around people, interacting and sharing, but I’m obsessed with my goal.
At 48 I don’t have any more time to waste chatting on the phone, I have to do something with my life.
I want to become. A person. I want to be You.
The race is on, I’m excited and run faster and faster, and getting closer and closer.
I barely have time to breathe.
Do I have time for the puffy belly?
Not at all!
‘Please God, help me now!’ – I pray. ‘Keep me healthy for a few more months, a few more years! I’ll make it, this time I know I’ll make it!’
(While God is looking the other way, deep inside my belly invading cells are getting stronger.
In appearance, they’re large, much larger than normal cells.
In soul, they’re mean and unforgiving.
In purpose, they’re focused.
There’s only one reason they’re there.
To kill me.
My time is up)
Too busy for my puffy belly, I drift away to sleep.
Back to beginning – ‘The First Symptoms’ Up to – ‘Angry lymph nodes’
Back to previous post – ‘Feeling bloated anyone?’