I woke up with very itchy legs. I checked the bed and discovered tiny pieces of wire and spring jutting out of the foam, poking my bare sweaty legs. The aircon was making weird gurgling noises, and when I placed my palm in front of the vent it was barely blowing any air. This window-type Kolin airconditioner would be the first thing to go post-quarantine, followed by the bed. As soon as the quarantine is lifted I imagine myself running out of the gate and throwing these pieces of TRASH away. It was 7 am but felt like noon. I said the word “FUCK”. I felt some cramping in my hypogastric area. I looked forward to the many whines I would whine that day.
This is probably the day that I would die, I told myself, which led me to worry about all the inconveniences my death would bring (ie, what will happen to my toys?). For the past few days I’ve been experiencing some strange, difficult to characterize abdominal pain. The tumors must have reached critical mass enough to cause obstruction, leading to all kinds of symptoms. I frantically messaged Burkholderia Cepacia: I’ve been having abdominal pain… I think I have carcinomatosis! To which she replied “It could just be a ruptured ovarian cyst, mittelschmerz, or dysmenorrhea!” I asked Treponema Palloma for a second opinion, and rather unimaginatively he said “That’s coagulated cum from isolation. Masturbate.”
Back in June 2009 (Drugs!!! Gimme Those Drugs!!!) I wrote about my attempts at self-administration of intravenous and intramuscular drugs to manage recurrent abdominal pain which turned out to be cholelithiasis. Eventually I had to undergo surgery, but I didn’t want to have it in PGH where I was still a senior resident–nobody wants people they know inserting their foley catheter. So with my right upper quadrant still on fire, and still feeling nauseous from over-administration of tramadol, I limped along Bocobo to Manila Doctors with admitting orders written by myself. And who should be inserting my foley catheter, but Dr. Avelina Guergellina, who was my intern back in the day. “Hi Sir Will!” Avelina said as she bathed the foley catheter in KY jelly.
|How fun would it be to become a Ralph Wiggum.|
“This is a different kind of pain!” I told Burkholderia Cepacia, who was not really paying attention because she was mesmerized watching Eat Bulaga’s Bawal ang Judgmental. In this episode Melanie Marquez is trying to figure out who among the hot men on stage have not yet come out of the closet officially. Whenever Melanie Marquez is on screen we await the wise things she would say. Nothing particularly new this time, but she repeated our favorite truism: Don’t judge me because I’m not a book!
“I also have some weird sensation on my throat,” I continued to whine, symptom-saladding my way through the conversation. “And some back pain. Could this be esophageal cancer with metastasis all over?”
“You’re the oncologist,” Burkholderia said, “but I think if the disease is that advanced you would be, like, THIN.”