When: January 2011
Where: At the doctor`s office
Even drove around and around, like he used to. Looking for the perfect spot to park. Preferably, one you could drive straight out from, when you were done. Without reversing and without looking in the mirrors. The chance, however, that someone had parked in the vacant space in front of us, during the time we`d been away, was pretty high. Always. Therefore, lately, he had preferred to park as far away as human possible. A spot so distant that you had to make sure it was actually legal to park there. And it usually was. But on some days, though, I had to plead that we parked where everyone else did. And today was such a day.
In fact, there had been most “such days” lately. The last year, even, had been filled with such days. Days I couldn`t drive for myself. Days I could barely stand on my two feet. Days where I, more than anything, felt like a walking dead.
“Foss!!”. I jumped in my seat and looked up. An elderly man in a squared shirt stood in the doorway, in front of us. Scouting into the crowd of sick people. “Yes,” I replied, but it only came out as a whisper. So, I cleared my throat and tried again. A little higher this time. “Yes. Here!”. He looked at me for a split second and then turned. Without saying anything. I assumed it was some kind of a signal, for me, or us, to follow, -so we quickly collected our belonging and followed him in.
“Right. So, what bothers this young lady?”.
The tiny, old man looked even smaller now, sitting behind his huge desk. But something told me that he had learned a thing or two in order to compensate for his height, maybe, throughout life. At least, there seemed to be something he was compensating, by the tone of his voice and his oozing facial expressions. However, he was what I was left with, and I decided to give him a chance. Maybe he was just having a bad day. Maybe he was sick himself. Maybe his wife had just left him. Maybe his wife had left him, for his best friend. Maybe she was sick, too. Maybe they were all sick.
“Ehm… Well. I`m not sure whether you have had the chance to look at my portfolio, or what it`s called… ».
“No, I thought maybe you were in the position to tell me“, he interrupted.
Again, he substantiated his statement with this look. Followed by a laughter that sounded suspiciously like one you would use when you were mocking someone, but which, instead, I chose to look at as if he – at least – had the ability to laugh. Something I was a huge fan of, in general. If I had not been blessed with a sense of humour beforehand, – the recent years, at least, packed with illnesses and despair, had left me develop a fair share of dark humour. So, I joined in. I laughed, alongside him. Maybe so, with an undertone of something completely different, but nonetheless. If the guy was keen on a laugh, I sure wasn`t going to stop him.
“So, well? You think you can do it?”. He looked at me. All serious, this time.
“You know what. I`m positive that I can». I said. Looking straight at him.
Then I started. And I had practiced at home, like usual. Cause this wasn`t my first rodeo. This wasn`t the first man, or doctor, for that matter, which I had to convince. That it was my body that there was something wrong with, and not my will. I had learned not to chatter unnecessarily. I knew what words to use. I knew I had to look into their eyes. Smile, -but certainly not too much. Only bring the essentials. Not the details. Avoid words like “eh” or “ehm”. Then it could all sound like something I had just come up with it. What else? You wanna sit up straight. To the point where it actually hurts. You wanna cross your legs. Like a lady. Like a lady who gives a damn about her legs, just then. You don`t wanna seem hectic. You don`t wanna seem nervous (it`s only your life at stake. Nothing else). Don`t come unkempt. Don`t come all cleaned up. Freshened up. Just seem normal. Act as though you`re normal. Yet there`s nothing normal about this…
I told him how I`d been diagnosed with celiac disease, eight years prior. I told him about the eczema, which now showed up rapidly, -instead of once and a while. And that it itched so much that I`d started beating it, instead of scratching it, -so I wouldn`t hurt the skin so much. I told him about the mouth ulcers that were like craters inside my mouth. Which made eating, drinking, and even talking, a constant battle. The dizziness, that used to come in periods, but which now was more like a constant. The migraine attacks, which ended my days in an instant. The stomach pains. The toilet- visits. How thin I`d become. Thinner. That it felt like my body wasn`t taking up nourishment. And then, the most significant. The biggest challenge in my day-to-day life. The one and only, invisible one. How my body didn`t seem to bare anything.
As if it had lost all of its energy. As if the power button had been turned off. By someone else. And not by me. How I had to drag it along. And rest for most of the day. That I couldn`t work no more. That I had been on sick leave, again and again. That I had tried to do everything right. To the book. By the book. Push your body. Don`t push your body. Push your body, but don`t push it too hard. Activity AND rest. Think positive. Be positive (yes. even more than normal). Do not panic. No not, EVER, panic! It will surely pass. Cut sugar. Cut down on sugar. Make all of your meals from scratch. I then told him how I sat on a stool while I was cooking my meals. From scratch. I told him I could barely stand anymore. That it felt discharged and like it would all shut down, completely. Not because I wanted it to, but because it wanted it to. I felt how things were developing in the wrong direction, for each passing day. And I told him, that, yes, I was mentally healthy. I had been blessed with a good mood. A light-hearted spirit. I had friends. Good friends. Close friends. And I had never been bullied, despite what everyone seemed to hope for. I even had a boyfriend and a house. A beautiful house! Everything was fine. Except from my body. And that that was why I was here.
“However, you managed just fine to put on your make-up today”. He said.
That’s what he said.