Chronic - what does that even mean?
ThreeThree and half years ago, I was
diagnosed with an autoimmune condition. I hate chronic because it means that
you are not sick enough to die but you are not well enough to function as a
normal human being. I wake up every morning feeling ill. My entire body is sore.
I feel like I have been run over by a truck or something. My mind however is
fully functional, it wants to live as if this has not happened. My brain is in
complete denial. Which does not really help because the pain is there and will
not go away just because this brain refuses to register. The endless visits to
the doctor, the lab, x-ray and MR scans have become a daily routine.
Who am I? before my disease started
to define me. I was a happy middle aged woman, I am still hesitant about
calling myself middle aged woman. Am only 51 now, when I was diagnosed I was 48
years old, a lady in my prime. I was enjoying life. Loads of friends, going on
to fine places in town meeting interesting people.
After being in a marriage that was
neither good or bad but mainly based on my childhood dreams of having a family
like any other well brought up African girl. I grew up in a large family by all
standards. I think the number of siblings varies between 24 and 28
depending on who you ask. Am hoping it is 28 i would not want to exclude some
people due to some simple mathematical error. most people know the exact number
of siblings they have but in my family, there is always room for error due to
whose account one takes. My dad had a lot of children. It´s a huge comfort
because you never run out of people to talk to. You can never feel lonely
unless you want to.
I recall this one time when I was
admitted in hospital for a lung emboli, those days’ cell phones were for rich
folks only. They used to cost a fortune. My neighbour bought one of those huge
handsets at a cost of 7000 and we all used to talk about how extravagant he
was. The nurses in trying to at least bring some comfort in my life told me to
give the number to the ward to my family so that they could get hold of me. I
gave the number to one sibling that I knew would gladly spread it to those who
needed to talk to me. The first call came within an hour after I sent the
number to my sister. The second came ten minutes later. After the tenth call,
the wonderful nurse came to ask me if I could consider being moved to an office
which had access to a private line. I swear, if I was not in a lot of pain,
this would have cracked me. I did laugh as much as my pain could allow. I
agreed to be moved to the office, and the next day, first chance the hospital
could get, they brought me my own private line in one of the wards rooms. Now
that’s what a big family can do for you. I enjoyed every moment of it.
My Family
Both my parents come from a
"royal family". Being offspring of our prominent chiefs. As such
their choice of who to marry was limited to members of their own “social
class”. My mum married early by Western standards. When I think about it now, I
realise that she was only a teenager at the time she met and married my dad. He
was not so much older either.
My mother had undergone a childhood
that is so horrific for any words. Even if I tried, no one would understand how
anyone would be put through the horrors that she went through. Mwiza a soul
that really needed rescuing at the time she met my father. My father
desperately needed a mother for the three children that his deceased wife had
left him with. They were married for years and had a lot of wonderful children
again depending on who you ask.
My childhood was wonderful. I grew
up being loved and protected by so many people. I think it’s because of my
strategic entry. I came at a time my family needed a baby girl (even
though they did not know they needed me). I was a breath of fresh air, (very
subjective part of the story). I have always been a very happy child. When a
child is showered with a lot of love from everyone, that is the only thing they
will know.
Who am I? before my disease started
to define me. I was a happy middle aged woman, I am still hesitant about
calling myself middle aged woman. Am only 51 now, when I was diagnosed I was 48
years old, a lady in my prime. I was enjoying life. Loads of friends, going on
to fine places in town meeting interesting people.
After being in a marriage that was
neither good or bad but mainly based on my childhood dreams of having a family
like any other well brought up African girl. I grew up in a large family by all
standards. I think the number of siblings varies between 24 and 28
depending on who you ask. Am hoping it is 28 i would not want to exclude some
people due to some simple mathematical error. most people know the exact number
of siblings they have but in my family, there is always room for error due to
whose account one takes. My dad had a lot of children. It´s a huge comfort
because you never run out of people to talk to. You can never feel lonely
unless you want to.
I recall this one time when I was
admitted in hospital for a lung emboli, those days’ cell phones were for rich
folks only. They used to cost a fortune. My neighbour bought one of those huge
handsets at a cost of 7000 and we all used to talk about how extravagant he
was. The nurses in trying to at least bring some comfort in my life told me to
give the number to the ward to my family so that they could get hold of me. I
gave the number to one sibling that I knew would gladly spread it to those who
needed to talk to me. The first call came within an hour after I sent the
number to my sister. The second came ten minutes later. After the tenth call,
the wonderful nurse came to ask me if I could consider being moved to an office
which had access to a private line. I swear, if I was not in a lot of pain,
this would have cracked me. I did laugh as much as my pain could allow. I
agreed to be moved to the office, and the next day, first chance the hospital
could get, they brought me my own private line in one of the wards rooms. Now
that’s what a big family can do for you. I enjoyed every moment of it.
My Family
Both my parents come from a
"royal family". Being offspring of our prominent chiefs. As such
their choice of who to marry was limited to members of their own “social
class”. My mum married early by Western standards. When I think about it now, I
realise that she was only a teenager at the time she met and married my dad. He
was not so much older either.
My mother had undergone a childhood
that is so horrific for any words. Even if I tried, no one would understand how
anyone would be put through the horrors that she went through. Mwiza a soul
that really needed rescuing at the time she met my father. My father
desperately needed a mother for the three children that his deceased wife had
left him with. They were married for years and had a lot of wonderful children
again depending on who you ask.
My childhood was wonderful. I grew
up being loved and protected by so many people. I think it’s because of my
strategic entry. I came at a time my family needed a baby girl (even
though they did not know they needed me). I was a breath of fresh air, (very
subjective part of the story). I have always been a very happy child. When a
child is showered with a lot of love from everyone, that is the only thing they
will know.
My story continues, but the blanks
that I am not talking about are filled with mistakes but no regrets. I tend to
make decision using my gut as opposed to careful reasoning. I have been blessed
with a wonderful family composing three lovely children. My struggles were
bearable until three and half years ago, after my diagnosis
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