Don’t underestimate the power of a Pill. -Esperanzish Proverb
I had dreams that I can’t remember, probably nightmares I don’t really remember.What I actually remember is my sleep being disturbed by faint voices something like “Esperanza wake up” I barely opened my eyes to see a blur vision of someone probably a nurse I’m not sure. “Esperanza wake up .. it’s over!” What’s over? Oh yes the surgery I’m done with it. What a relief, but why am I shivering? It’s so cold here my teeth are chattering. I’m being lifted to the stretcher. They move me to my room I see my dad, mom, siblings, and aunts? Why are my aunts here? It’s the first time they come to a surgery of mines. Usually they come on later on. I can’t speak a word the pain.. oh the pain of the surgery I can feel it! The cold temperature makes me shiver more. The sweet warm hand of my father is placed on my forehead and he starts to recite the Quran … the chattering is reduced slowly. Meanwhile I look around, the room’s lights are all nearly out is it dark already? Is it night already? Yes it is night! My dad finishes his recitations, kisses my forehead and indicated that they should all leave so I could rest. They go except for my mom who will be sleeping by my side on the couch and my aunt. I could hear them talk about how I took a long time in the operation room. Five hours that is. Something about it being one of the difficult surgeries. How they took time entwining my intestines they were stuck to each other. “It’s because of the me throwing up so much” I think. They ask why my face is blue.. was I that cold? No it’s just a dye they made me drink to make sure everything passed out fine. My aunt comes to me and joke “Your make up is horrible” I smile then I say “I haven’t prayed I need to pray.” I pray while lying down, she said her goodbyes and I am left with my mom. I’m too tired I need to sleep.
The next three days I had to spend in the hospital because 1. They had to make sure the operation is successful. 2. I wasn’t allowed to eat/drink so I had to be connected to the IV. 3. I was connected to a drain. I was very optimistic and hopeful to pass this mission even though I was in pain. I walked around persistently , yet slowly because of the pain, insuring that I am fine, that I need to get out of this filthy place. That once and for all I will say farewell to this place.
On the third day I was allowed to drink. I was only to drink light liquids no eating, no nothing other than that for a week. I was allowed to go home with some medications. I was glad that the worst was over. One day my mom called me telling me that the doctor was on the phone, he wanted to talk to me.
“Are you feeling feverish?” he asked.
“Yes a little.”
“Don’t worry it’s just because of the surgery. Keep on having the antibiotic pills.”
He checked on me more telling me to drink a lot soups, juices you name it. I asked if it’s okay to drink mango juice he said it was fine. We talked some more and then I handed the phone to my mom. I drank happily that all this was over. Even though liquids started to disgust me but I kept on drinking looking forward when I’m allowed to eat and I craved to eat.
One day I tried to swallow the antibiotic pill but somehow it got stuck in my throat. It hurts let it pass quickly I tried drinking water slowly trying to enforce it to go down miraculously it did go down after so much pain. This was painful I thought. Tomorrow I’ll cut the pill in half and I’ll swallow it in two turns.
It is tomorrow already the 16th of February. I cut the pill in half and swallow a half.. OUCH it’s stuck I roam around the house hoping it’ll get down anytime. I assured myself it’ll pass it HAS to pass. I go down and see my mom and dad packing for my dad’s trip. He is traveling tomorrow on a business trip. It still didn’t pass. It hurts. It’s painful. Can we get this over with already?
I go to the guest bathroom I look at myself in the mirror. Should I? It’s too painful! And than I decide to go with it. I stick my right index finger in my throat and I throw up nothing comes out. I could feel my organs lifting up and down from the intense throwing up. I stop and right then I feel it. My left shoulder hurts me badly. My stomach hurts me badly. It hurts so much I wanted to cry in pain but so much pain prevents me from crying. I go the living room sit on the couch hoping that this pain will go. GO! GO! It doesn’t want to go. I rock back and forth hoping it will reduce the pain but no use.
“Esperanza what’s wrong with you?” my dad asks in concern. I tell him about the pain I can’t take it. My mom tells me to lay down it might go. And so I do so, it works a little but the pain is there. Dad recites some Quran on me. I can’t help it it’s too painful. My mom calls the doctor even though it’s late at night he tells her to get me to the doctor in the hospital. He’ll check on me.
We go, the doctor makes a blood test he says nothing is wrong. It’s normal. He gives me two pain-killer injections and I was to go home on the promise that the pain will fade. I grow light-headed and sleepy. Going to bed I sleep peacefully.
They wake me up for Fajer prayer they ask me how is the pain. I say it’s no longer there smiling at myself at how petrified I was. I get up and in that instance pain come striking back again. It hurts more than ever. My dad tells me to pray and we’ll go back the hospital.
My parents call the doctor again before going and then we zoom off to the hospital. They make tests, X-rays, CT scans trying to identify why do I have this pain. It is painful trying to keep up with this pain and standing up. After all the test were done I got sent back to the room. Beforehand that I insisted that my father goes on with his trip even though I wanted him beside me, but what can he do. So my mom and I wait for the results. The doctor comes in with the results. The answer was simple yet disturbing.
I have a leakage. I have to do an immediate surgery.