I remember this tummy ache - II

I hate this feeling

As I thought about writing this blog, I felt I had written about the same thing before, only that I did not realise, that was almost 15 years ago. Then, when I wrote about it simply brings to memory the many episodes of this same discomfort I experienced in early childhood.

Blog - I remember this tummy ache (2007)

I have had a few occurrences of it recently, my remedy is sometimes lying face down with a soft pillow tucked under my abdomen for some relief and if that does not work and I do not feel the need to evacuate, I just make cups of milky sweet tea to drink, eventually, it subsides.

It’s that tummy again

These rotten tummy aches that from childhood I have failed to get any diagnosis for apart from the proverbial pat on the head with the assurance that it would soon go, is something I have somewhat learnt to live with whenever it happens.

Today, it started from dawn, in the waking hours; a mild and radiating discomfort that I felt would get worse, and it did. The ache does not incapacitate, but it tires and wears you out. Three cups of tea later, I was beginning to feel better though occasionally, that pain intensified that I bent over double and groaned out loud.

By midday, it had gone but I felt sore from the discomfort which does not seem to have cleared up into the evening. Maybe, I should consider getting a second opinion about it; a thought has crossed my mind. Any of them would indicate a continuous or chronic condition, but something may not even happen for months or years after a few hours, you do wonder.

Incredible India: The Rite of Passage

Running for the runs

I am back at the inn just before the midday break at some cost because I needed an unscheduled ride from the training centre.

In serious discomfort just after I barely concentrated enough to cover a few topics because I am going through one of those rites of passage.

The passage is used in every sense of the word as in the experience and the visits to little rooms with closed doors, a rumbling belly, pain that fluctuates gradually from almost unbearable to just within the threshold of tolerable.

What aches much is the belly

I have taken much advice, bananas, yoghurt and curd all to bring some comfort to my somewhat contorted visage, the many quite understanding of what I am going through and sympathetic too.

It is called Delhi Belly and a good few trainees have succumbed especially those from the regions where we have not built resistance to the bugs – it is my first time of having travel diarrhoea in all the times that I have travelled to place far too numerous to mention.

Treating India

So, as I lay in bed hoping to get some rest and recovery, the funniness of it all is interesting as some might think, he is not in that much discomfort, else he will not be blogging – you have no idea; I have blogged in far worse situations before, each situation deserves the journaling a blog provides.

In answering an unusually phrased question yesterday, I found that good humour has therapeutic quality too.

Q: How are you treating India?

A: With Imodium.

It is, I suppose a rite of passage to India.

I remember this tummy ache

I hate this feeling

I hate feeling ill, I can’t stand the pain of the symptoms, and I can’t stand the itch after medication, but they are things I have experienced time and again.

Now, I must say, despite a condition that some might term terminal I have been in really good health for years, and long may that continue – I have only had to visit hospital once some 3 years ago and that was the emergency room when acute tonsillitis was about to seal off my airways – the doctor was of the mind of keeping in hospital.

I was, however, prescribed some strong antibiotics, a rarity in the Netherlands, and the thing cleared up in days, but I found that I lost 5 kilograms in 4 days – I wish I had kept that weight off.

One other visit involved venesection (blood-letting), well, that is what I would call it; by the time the fifth vial was being filled, I was about to pass out; they had to run a battery of tests, and thankfully, I left feeling not too bad after the results were revealed.

It’s that tummy again

So, this morning, this pain that I have known since I was a kid came back, a severe kind of tummy ache that no one has properly diagnosed or treated. I groan, I grab, I have the runs, and I sometimes get sick from an empty stomach – it is such a rotten feeling.

I first had this when I was about 7 years old; my mother was beside herself in not knowing what to do after the doctors just said it would subside; it did subside, but not till after 12 hours of what was essentially a labour, to which I could not receive the respite of an epidural.

I have had probably 6 different attacks like this, and so this morning, I remembered as I felt it all before and had to call in sick. All I could do was lie on my belly with a soft pillow underneath, and then visit the toilet or sick bowl as required, whilst fielding calls from work because I am off to Stockholm tomorrow.

Shielding the child from the truth

One thing I have realised from these strange ailments is that, as a young child, I was always shielded from the details or diagnosis that the doctor had made. For instance, I have not been able to determine from my parents why two biopsies were taken from my sides when I was 6 - the Internet helps now.

For instance, I was more or less eavesdropping when I learnt that my short-sightedness/astigmatism was a probable situation picked up at birth when a lot of light was shone in my eyes; kids sometimes have questions but we are never present to participate in situations and circumstances that concern us, I probably would have asked if it could be corrected because I was rotten at tennis; I could not track the ball for distance and speed - I found out it could have been corrected when I was a kid when I had the opportunity to ask the question myself some 20 years on - imagine my pique.

There is this prevalent thinking, especially within our Yoruba culture, where children are shielded from events in the home when, in fact, we can sense when things are not right, but have no one to ask about it. Unresolved issues damage people.

The memory of kids

We are kids, we cannot make these decisions, they think, well, we may not have that opportunity to make decisions, ask questions or get answers, but I know we have memories to remember when we were treated as insignificant when we should have been the most significant.

I would not even go into the area where the questions are loaded in such a way as to get the desired answers.

However, the greatest damage is done when, in some cases, a child has lost a parent, and they are not allowed to grieve, and if they do, they are usually not there to do that customary ashes-to-ashes thing.

The pain is the same for adults and kids

Even as a child, I thought that it was cruel to the extreme to exclude a child from such a solemn but very sad ceremony, especially when I witnessed how distraught an adult was when she was not able to make it to the burial of a mentor in time before he was buried.

Like I said to my uncle years ago – We, the kids, saw everything, heard everything, and knew everything, even if you, the parents, thought we didn’t.

Never has it been more important to talk to the kids and listen to what they have to say. In many cases, they have difficult questions, and though parents might be afraid of odd questions, I know I have never wanted to ask if I would die from whatever I was suffering from at that time.

I feel a lot better now, but what an ordeal the day was. I never want to feel this way again, I know that much.