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| "David", marble statue (1501-1504), Michelangelo |
Well it is bloody easy for them to say that, without knowing what a darned chatter box my body is and ignoring the fact that I also have medium to strong tendencies of hypochondria which I try to keep in check. I avoid going seeking medical care and attention if I am not certain that there really is a problem.
The first time this happened, was when I had appendicitis with peritonitis. I was in my late twenties.
A few hours after a delicious Friday lunch, consisting of deep fried prawns with curry sauce, at my favorite Chinese restaurant, I started feeling queasy, threw up a little and had vague belly aches. I thought there might have been a bad prawn, so I went to bed and tried to sleep it off.
When I woke up on Saturday morning I wasn't feeling queasy anymore but my whole midsection ached. I tried to purge myself but nothing would come out, so I tried coffee. That didn't help either. I slept off and on the whole day and night. Early on Sunday morning I was woken by the pains in my belly, which had now centered down to the lower right section of my belly. That was when I understood what it was, and decided to take the first bus to the hospital emergency room.
At the hospital I was whisked past the people waiting there and got a drip and private room waiting for a surgeon who could operate me. Which was about an hour later.
It seems my appendix had been close to rupturing. One doctor told me it had been gangrenous, while another said it had been pernicious, both however scolded me for not having "listened to my body" and for having delayed far too long in seeking medical care. They also agreed that I could have died if I had not come in when I did.
The strange thing is, that before the doctors told me off I was rather proud of how I had handled it. I had listened to my body and had sought medical attention when I knew I needed it.
