August 14, 2012


The following is my ordeal before the stroke: 

My recent encounter with personalities whom usually are tasked to take care of those who are sick or for some reason or the other, of patients who are about to get sick the moment they get a hold of what they are going to pay when their diagnosed sickness has been removed or medicated, have been lingering in my mind for almost about a year now.  I had to embrace a number of learned and wasted experience being with those people even if I had already known that what they give and administer are purely objectified and the reasons for having such profession is purely out of necessity and not of calling or whispers of the heart.  Nevertheless, what they did almost a year ago was considerably a realization for me since I have not, at least been through all those process I had undergone for the past number of years.   It was neither a relief nor a nightmare because I am not really used in visiting or consulting a doctor or a specialist in order to at least lessen my ordeal.  Much to my surprise, the almost gruesome stupid numbness that my feet was having was all because of my haphazardly and occasional sessions with too much fat and the next best thing to sex, alcohol.  According to my medical adversaries, too much of everything was the culprit of what I intend to live up with for the rest of my life.  And my stupidity was largely caused by my parents who also blame our members of the clan for having caused such disease.  More reluctantly, it was what I eat that made me suffer what was diagnosed. They told me that I was suffering and I was a suspect of Diabetes Miletus and has a high blood pressure.  Makes me feel like I have been charged with a crime…

I tried to muster my ordeal as nonchalantly as any criminal who’s been in and out of the bars.  All I did was to savor every single do’s and don’ts that my doctor wants me to do if I wanted to prolong my existence.  That time, it was undoubtedly the best, if not the only way to slip through it.  I was asked to go on a strict diet and monitor my blood pressure hourly.  He also advised me to take the prescribed medicine until God knows when will I get and fell better.  Honestly, my conscience does not want any and vomits everything that they told me and wanted me to do.  It was all against my system but it was, for the last minute, a necessity that I obey such order or I will end up a rotting cadaver helplessly begging for another round of booze knowing that what I helplessly gulp does not make me throw up anymore.  I was caught between my choice of living the life to the fullest only knowing my being endangered after some time and the realization that there was still hope of a meaningful existence which co-exist of trying to fight an ancient disease through endless orders of somebody who was just paid to do his job and not care at all on his patients…I unfortunately succumb to the latter as I painstakingly adhere to what they told me was the best choice and the only and proper way to live one’s life.

Hindrances upon hindrances faced my struggling health as I was put to everyday battery of tests, of will and endurance of how far I could endure the hardships that coupled my taking of medicine, exercise and that God-I-do-not-want diet. It was doing those that I got to learn more to depend on myself.  My existence in the future and what I may become in the next day depends upon my will to survive.  Nonetheless, it was all up to me. 

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