pressed but not crushed

Yesterday’s hematological checkup was a wake-up call.

You see, all these years hospital visits were just a routine that I make myself go through like a machine. From gynae clinic to medical to psychiatry then back to medical, it was like going to the grocery. I had toughened myself, and truth be told…I did not allow myself to feel any emotion. I didn’t want to be regarded as “weak” anymore, so when most people would feel distressed over health issues – I cannot be like them. I had even desensitized myself to blood tests – take all the blood you want and how many times you want…I don’t care.

And I really thought that I felt fine. Maybe I was – until yesterday.

I could sense that something was wrong when my blood took about 10 minutes to clot from the puncture wound yesterday. It doesn’t help that I only saw the doctor at 1pm which was wayyy beyond the clinic hours. As the doctor began to ask specific questions, and by the look on her face – I knew that something isn’t quite right.

Call it instincts.

My platelets dived 25,000. The counts still weren’t too low, but it was the sharp drop that worries the doctor. Thankfully, I have a doctor who doesn’t really approve steroids as much as possible, and so she gave me the choice – start treatment now (and suffer the side effects) or delay and take the risk. I chose the latter. She told me that as long as it stays above 80k, I might not require treatment. I’m now at exactly 80k…which means I can’t drop by more than 10k I think (or less). Actually I don’t know…10k is still a lot to drop, though not as bad as 25k. Hmmm. Oh boy, I have to go back in three weeks time (supposed to be two…I delayed it). each visit my count will be extremely important – cannot drop beyond 80!!

Really very stressed one lorr!!

After that visit, I finally broke down. All this while…I had ignored the concerned look on even my pastors’ faces. DrA calls that “counter-arrogance”…the feeling that you can take more than others. I didn’t allow myself to feel. This was my chance to show that I’m “stronger” than the rest.

I know the danger of low platelets. I know that only one treatment exists – steroids. I know that I can’t do ice-skating and paint-balling (though I pretty much want to, just to defy doctor’s orders and gain back some control). I know that I’m stuck with needles for the rest of my life unless a miracle happens.

I know the consequences. I just didn’t know that I wasn’t as strong as I thought. I forgot that it’s just human to feel distressed.

Today, I finally “let go”. Still, i tried to cope by making myself busy. The first time that I had allowed myself to face my emotions was in church. The tears just won’t stop flowing. PJK, as sharp as always…preached on facing our Goliaths.

I also wished that I can be happy as ever. Haven’t felt so down in a long time. I hate it when I lose control. Hate it when people see that I’m upset and I can’t hide it. Hate it that I’m “weak”. Hate it so much that I even sms-ed PsK to apologize for breaking down.

Perhaps, there are people who don’t expect me to be all “strong” when the waves do come crashing in. Perhaps, I had put too much pressure on myself to remain calm and happy “in spite of all circumstances”. At that point in church just now, I felt so defeated. PsK gave me a gentle reminder: “Jasmine, do you think that after experiencing breakthroughs…the trials get lesser? No!! They actually get fiercer! You’ve come this far, this is not the time to give up!”

It feels so good to have someone standing by and praying along.