I was out of the zone for nearly an hour or so. It could have been more or less. I remember being told it would take 20 minutes tops and I’d be out. The clock was at it; tik tok, tik tok. Every minute counted. I may have been in there for 20 minutes or more, I don’t know.
The room was big and highly lit. There was an almuninium square tray full of scapels, and God knows what those other equipment that laid there were. My head was getting heavy. I felt a little dizzy or tipsy like a drunk person. The anaestestia was taking effect on me and in seconds I was out of the zone and into another world. I was dead asleep. I was in dreamland perhaps or just lost in my own little world when the scapels made rounds on me.
A few months ago, I had just come from the lavatory one day to do some business. The business we all do while in there whether it’s a short or long one. I had initially gone in for a long one- downloading- then later during the day, small small visits of short ones. In one of the small or quick visit if you will, I noticed something as I wiped myself. There was a small swelling in my anal area. Of course I panicked. I didn’t know what that was. I wasn’t sure if it was boil or just a lesion.
That evening when I got home from work, I stood in front of my dressing mirror and checked it out. It looked somewhat like a boil, but I couldn’t tell for sure. But since it wasn’t painful, I thought, it can’t be that serious. So I ignored it. I only remembered there was a tiny thing that had popped in my behind every time I visited the restroom.
One day after a long visit to the lavatory, for the first time in a few months of walking around with what I thought was nothing serious, I felt some pain in my behind. But not the kind of pain that would prevent me from doing anything. That was the day I reckoned it was serious.
As a writer, sometimes it’s not easy to let yourself once in a while be vulnerable and share the little things about yourself. To let people see your humanness because there are those who make writers to be superhumans. Or people with no lives. People who don’t have emotions, all they do is sit and write. Yet, we breathe the same air like everyone else, we cry, we laugh, and damn right we bleed too.
So if you, my beloved reader, are ever to relate with most of what I write, then I shouldn’t be afraid to be vulnerable and let you in on my little things. Yes, my work is to bring your stories to life but while at it, I might as well also share my world with you. At least the parts that matter though I really don’t like being in the spotlight.
Early this year I decided to go for a quick check up. I was told that the thing on my ass was called a hemorrhoid. And it was treatable. Depending on its magnitude, medication or a quick procedure would eliminate it. I went back home and did what some of us do, google. I read more about the condition. Kumbe doing one thing was not enough. In my case water and fruit intake was high but I may have missed out on foods rich in high fibre to prevent constipation because I constipated a lot.
On my next doctor’s visit last month, I was armed with lots of questions for the doc. He walked me through the causes, treatment and prevention. It was now clear to me the state I was in. I was advised to have a procedure done. So we booked a date.
By the way, if you have not been paying up your NHIF monthly payments, please do so. I had never thought my NHIF card would come through for me like it did this week. I had booked to have the procedure done at AIC Kijabe Hospital and I can tell you for free, it’s one of the best hospitals. The wellbeing of the patient is given priority.
The day had come. I woke up very early and headed to the hospital. I waited for my turn in the queue. I was prepped for the procedure and I was taken into the theater. There was a team of six people. Three males and three females. All very friendly. I lay on the bed admiring the lights overhead. One of the male doctors said a prayer and a resounding Amen followed shortly after. Some nice worship music was playing in the background. What an ambience. I said another little prayer in my heart and before I said amen, a nurse who stood behind the bed, right behind my head with that oxygen thing, said I was ready. Ready meaning, I was about to be out. I was anaesthetized.
When I woke up, I was in a recovery room feeling drowsy and nauseated. The surgeon came in to check up on me and told me the procedure was successful and with some pain relievers l, I would be ok. I waited at the recovery room for the anaesthetic drugs to wear off then I went back home.
You may be reading this and wondering what is the moral of the story. Simple. The little things we take for granted are in fact the big things. Your health matters and since your body is the only place you live in all your life, take care of it. That’s the only way to thank your body by caring for it because no one else will. I am glad to be back here. Ready to bring your stories to life.