Reborne

05.07.09
Paralyzed. Helpless. Fragile. Shaky. Frightened.

That day can never be forgotten. As much as I would love to erase it in any possible way, I know it is embedded in me, to be remembered and to be 'cherished'. I was admitted to the hospital that day. After three days of terrible diarrhea and vomiting, I consulted a private doctor who informed me that I am having a terrible gastric. Something something, I forgot whats it called. I was told to stay away from cold/gassy drinks, acidic/sour food and oily food. At that point, I would nod my head to anything because the diarrhea and vomiting had been driving my crazy. Of sleepless night and dehydration.

I took the medicine the doctor prescribed me with. 10 minutes later, my lungs was gasping for air. I tried breathing in as hard as I could, but oxygen just would not reach down to my lungs. I coughed and coughed. Every cough was agony. My chest hurt to the core. Every breathe I take reminded me of the past. How I struggled and survived each attack. But, that was many years ago, how is it possible to happen again? I called mom and she rushed home. She headed back to the clinic we visited earlier, but it was closed (it was a Sunday you see). My mom became absent minded. I tell you, mom being mom is no good at handling situation like this. She called dad and started getting agitated with him while I was on the other seat breathing for air.

I was then rushed to the hospital, to a room where I was immediately strapped on a respiratory oxygen mask with its tube plugged into a respiratory machine, pumping liquid-formed-drugs. My lungs eased slowly, as I inhaled strongly, through that oxygen mask. That mask weakens me. I never wanted to be the weaker one. Never. I'll do anything to erase myself of that image. Therefore, the moment the nurse turned away, I unstrapped myself from the oxygen mask, and carefully supported it with my hands instead. With hope, it would at least revamp the image those patients and passerby have of me. Then, I would turned my head to the other side, hiding my face from my mom, hoping that she will not witness her daughter inhaling every breathe like this.

Two hours later, I was able to breathe on my own again. The doctor checked and later prescribed me my medicine. Finally, I was able to leave that pale, horrific room. I was more than rejoice, more than triumph, more than delightful. I wanted to step out as quickly as possible. Every step reminded me of the past, present and future. Flashback blurred me as I slowly fall asleep.

Yen,
finally breathes again.



p/s: And according to the doctor, that asthma attack(which had not been attacking me for many many years until that day) was nothing to do with the medicine the private doctor had prescribed me. Therefore, I am still down with a severe gastric. Urgh. And the amount of medicine, fuuuhhh.....