Once in a lifetime

IMG_0519When I was nine or ten, I went along the road in our village of North Street, Sandwick, to help a neighbour Peggy with her garden. She ran the small post office. I liked Peggy, she was an older lady, probably a little younger than my own Granny, and I became friendly with her as I used to go along to the little post-office to pick up my Granny’s pension. I came back from a long day in the garden, delighted with myself, but one of my eyes was bothering me. I remember distinctly saying to my Mum, who was ill in bed, that I had ‘gum in my eye’. I think at first she thought I meant chewing gum, that wasn’t so but my eye was definitely irritated, something was in it. My Dad took me to the hospital; they didn’t know what it was and I was sent home, thankfully though, that never happened again. When I was eighteen I got a rash all across my body, from my neck down to hips, red, weepy, itchy sores. I was just at that vain enough age to be glad I didn’t have them on my face, my Mother worried about that too and also about my body as she was concerned they would leave scars. They didn’t. I went to the doctor and seemingly it was: ‘a rash that you get in the spring or autumn when the pollen count changes but you’ll only get this rash once in your lifetime’. They were a horrible few weeks but it never happened again. When I was in my mid-twenties I was travelling in England around Yorkshire. I woke up the morning after my travels and my eyes were completely stuck shut. A somewhat disconcerting start to the day but I figured that was a reaction to the myriad of rape seed fields I’d passed the day before. Again that was a once in a lifetime experience.
Would I be this lucky with my trip to the hospital that Sunday afternoon?
No fear.
About a month after the Sunday afternoon incident I was on a night out with some friends. Not too far from my home therefore, thankfully, not too far from the Western General A & E. It was probably now about midnight and ‘the pain’ started, so did the fear. My friend Malkie ordered a taxi, a black cab, and literally in the time it took to drive the half a mile to the hospital I was doubled over in pain. Malkie waited for me as I again went through the process of test after test, waiting for the results, endless agony. The only other information that I could give them this time was – that this wasn’t the first time I’d experienced this.
I spent that night in hospital, my boyfriend was away on tour so the hospital didn’t want me home alone. It wasn’t a pleasant night; it was morphine induced but at least the pain again abated. No one was able to tell me why I had this second ‘attack’. Again, no one was able to tell me what it was. No one told me what would happen if I didn’t get the morphine and I was really too frightened to ask. In truth; I thought I might die. Anyone who has suffered endometriosis pain will know this is no exaggeration. The next day before I left the hospital, I was told I would receive a letter about an appointment for a follow up consultation. I think I sat by the letter box every day I was home till that letter arrived.

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