Ghosts of needles past

Sunday, December 11, 2011

I used to think I'm a strong person. Truth be told, I never really thought about it. I've not been a kid petrified of needles and blood, much like my peers. I say this because I've met people who behave in the most naive manner if they see a spot of blood. Fair enough. There are things I can't possibly look at and I can understand if blood or needles hold the same value for them. To each his own.

This year marked a major physical turmoil in my life. Urticaria ruined my peace of mind. It got me suicidal and to the extreme mode of depression. I know how I've lived through it- crying each night to myself, swearing upon my existence and that of others who according to me did not deserve the bliss. I couldn't take anyone smiling, happiness of any sort around me. I would cry every night without fail looking at my rash and it was dark. Seemed like someone passed away. Worse is, nobody knew. My mother noticed pretty late, friends didn't care. I was off most food and drinks and was living up on water and potato diet for some time.

Those days I would think to myself, if there's one thing each individual must acknowledge each day- it should be a life without urticaria. Seriously, if you've never had rash you are truly special, blessed indeed. I would also think of the days that I wasted taking life for granted. Each and every moment spent in normalcy would haunt me and I would regret my life and the whole crying-death shit would start in my head.

What made it worse was that this clashed with my university exams. Something I didn't want to screw up. My applications for university, my sole reason for working butt hard these years was for my master's degree in order to secure a life of financial independence. I always envision myself as someone who wants to take charge of my life on my own. My degrees (as unfortunate as it might get) have the power and I still sort of believe in it. This doesn't work for most people i know. They either don't believe in this or have grand plans of getting married and enjoying life or even doing vocational stuff like cooking, music or dancing. This stuff is largely based on your skill and talent to enhance it. I don't have that sort of talent with anything. Degrees are passive up there. This grand theory of mine fucked my head and I was determined to do my best in college since I wasted most of my school.

Coming back, my plan was working. I loved my discipline in college, I was doing considerably well academically and otherwise. Perfect life and that too parallel to the goal. Somewhere in between, urticaria comes, Kills my will to love, to fight, to do anything. Even now my hazy vision with all the tears are blurring my focus but this is possibly the most sensitive issue of my life. If you know me in person, at some point you'd have found me crib about it to you and thus frustrate you. The only mode of expression that I consider truly fastidious is this blog and i won't stop it here for i am not ashamed to tell about it.

Now why in the middle of nowhere am I making a hue and cry about it?

My urticaria has been under control with strong antihistamines. I began the formal course with two each day, stripping it to one and now reduced the potency of that one. Off late, I've put on a lot of weight and I am very conscious about it (thanks to the negative pricks who reminded me this). Now, my
Mother steps in and announces it's because of my medication. Fair enough. Maybe it is. All the steroids for anti allergy result in weight gain. In my case, so far I refused to take steroids. I prefer death over it. I actually prefer death over a lot of things. Steroids happen to be one of them.

Now, it took me four months to gain this normalcy back in life. I still get rash. Still get very irritated. Still cry over it when it's uncontrollable. It gets worse when I drink or when in terribly upset or nervous. It's hard to be ecstatic fucking all the time. People make it hard. Weight gain is something that does not bother me much because I have never exactly been petite or slim or thin or in shape. I've been proud of the curves, the fat and the belly.

Mother came up with an appointment with HOD skin specialist of possibly Delhi's biggest hospital and that created a furor. I know the chain of events. First appointment they'll ask me to discontinue the medication so that they can see the rash in full followed up by a patch test, where they poke my back with needles containing samples of food, chemicals and substances of over 200 items in the span of 3 days to see if i am allergic to any product. This test usually yields out random 6-7 items that may or may not be in contact with the patient on an every day basis. Leading to change of medication and probably a course of life that expects me to eat healthy and live a simple life. You get the drift.

Now you would say what is the harm in going? I say there is. I don't fucking want to begin this again. I know rash will be back once I discontinue medication. It will fucking return to haunt my life. This thing that I made next to normal in the span of these months will be back to square one and I'd be back to screwing more exams, more performances. More everything. Fucking shit I can't take this anymore. I swear on my ass, no one can take urticaria. If you read it over forums that discuss how patients live, you'll probably land up in depression. Sadly no one can understand this as much as the person going through it.

If I go tomorrow morning, I'd begin with this all over again. To face rash, and battle with anti depressants that my previous doctor prescribed me- pain.

My mother cannot understand the point. She refuses to let me continue the medication saying it's harming me with it's own side effects. This Hindi muhavara goes by that describes the situation,

idhar Kuan,
Udhar khaai.


Google it if you like. I'm not explaining it.

The prospects of horror urticaria is coming back to me and I prefer an easy death rather than facing it again. Just caused an emotional outburst.

2011 sucked monkey balls. I don't even want to think how horrible next one is going to be. Ghosts of needles present. We shall deal with them very soon.

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