29 – In Sickness and In Health (ii)

Please note: This is Ep.29

Please go here for Ep.28

Or here to begin at Episode 1

(As everything I write is true, names have been changed to protect identities.) 

29

In Sickness and in Health (ii)

September 4th: I had to wait 3 months since the last op before he could go in again. He said he’s drilled holes in my ovaries again and also lasered away something called endometriosis that was all over the place.

Why didn’t he do that the first time? Didn’t he see it then? Maybe this endometriosis thing is the reason why I was in pain all this time? Ouch, that stabbing in my shoulders again.

September 25th: Jai’s first birthday. We have an amazing party for him. The house is full of people. We have professional caterers and entertainers for the young and old. I try my best to put on a smile and be the perfect host but I’m two operations in and on hormone therapy; my body hasn’t settled yet.

October 2nd: My sisters-in-law, my husband and I are off to Venice for a nice little weekend getaway before winter kicks in. I love my sisters-in-law. No matter what, they always manage to make me smile. The younger one is a little shy, the elder one is very joyful and witty. Both are very kind. They are such a blessing to have in this family. This trip is just what I needed. Some good bottles of Italian vino always seem to help. Jai’s in good hands at home with his grandparents.

2000

January 1st: A new millennium. Y2K as they call it. I’ll be turning 20 this year. No, the world didn’t end last night. The clocks didn’t stop and the computers didn’t crash.

As the parents-in-law are away, we had a dinner party at home with just ours and my sisters-in-law’s friends. Around thirty of us. Everyone brought a dish, so thankfully, I didn’t have to cook much. We had drinks and dancing too. Maanav gifted me a beautiful Anne Klein bangle watch at midnight. I gave him a photo of us in a frame that says ‘Two bodies, One soul’.

The cleaner only comes on certain days and doesn’t wash dishes so it was a long day of washing, cleaning and tidying up after the party. I was proud of myself that I could do it. Maybe I’m finally getting better.

January 6th: A stabbing pain now accompanies the continuous dull ache that I had gotten used to. The scan shows a tumour on my right ovary. I’m scheduled for my 3rd bout of general anaesthetic and surgery. It’s only been around 6 months since the first one. How many more of these do I need? Why didn’t he see this before? He’s a private surgeon. How much money is he making each time we do this?

January 7th: I rake my fingers through my hair to tie it up into a ponytail. Lines, like welts, red and itchy are puffing up on my forehead and hairline where I touched my skin. It’s very strange.

Now my ears and face are red too. They’re uncontrollably itchy and swollen. I’m given an antihistamine. It has no effect.

January 8th: My in-laws call a lady, an expert in Vastu Shastra. She looks around the house. She inspects the floor where my bedroom is and makes some suggestions. Some furniture needs to be moved, she says, the direction of the bed etc. She says the shape of the roof isn’t good for my health. There’s some talk of the evil eye. Maybe someone is jealous. They tell me to put a dot of black makeup behind my ear every time I go out. 

January 9th: I’m back at the surgeon’s office. He takes one look at me and tells me we have to postpone the operation until after whatever this is has cleared up.

More antihistamines. No effect.

January 10th: Hubby and my father-in-law take me to a homeopath in Kenton, around a twenty-minute drive away. He tells me I’m allergic to my fabric softener. He says quite triumphantly, in his thick Gujrati accent, “Comfort causes discomfort.” It makes no sense to me, I’ve been using the same brand my whole life. And antihistamines aren’t working, so how can it be an allergy?

While their conversation ensues, I’m trying hard not to scratch my face off. I catch my reflection in the window.

I’m in shock.

My ears have tripled in size and my eyes have shrunk into my head. The raised wheals, itchy and red, have made their way down my neck now too. The more I scratch, the more they swell. I look like a diseased monster-mouse.

I open the front door and sit on the doorstep, silently crying into the cool wind that kindly affords me some mild relief, while Papa, Maanav and the homeopath have some drawn-out quibble over their account.

Unable to bare it any longer, I break into a sob and beg them to leave.

I spend the car ride home with my head out of the window.

Please go here to continue to Ep. 30