SOME HEALTH UPDATES

I have been seeing a renal specialist lately for some baseline tests on my one and only kidney. Good news is that my one kidney is working fine, except –

(There is always an except, isn’t there? Doctors would not exist but for the “excepts”…)

1) There is some blood in my urine (has been for some time).

2) I have low levels of blood albumin.

According to the specialist, the first happens to some people sometimes, and there is nothing he or I can do about it. The bad news is that my insurance company has rejected a recent insurance proposal for this very reason. And it looks like there is nothing I can do about it.

Moral of the story: Go and get some medical insurance coverage when you are young and healthy. This should be the top priority after securing your first job. I thought I was invincible and wouldn’t need it – I was wrong.

The low blood albumin is puzzling. According to my own research, it could either be due to a) malnuitrition (me? Really?), b) liver diseases (uh-oh), c) kidney diseases (uh-uh-uh-oh) or d) it is just one of those things. On the kidney front I am cool, and I don’t appear jaundiced, so liver problems are unlikely. I could be malnutritioned of course, but it doesn’t seem to have done me a lot of good on the weight loss front if that’s the case, so the doctor thinks it might be “just one of those things”.

To be on the safe side, if my albumin levels are still low next time I see him (a year later!), he will send me to a gastro-specialist to check my liver. Since it was a gastro specialist who discovered my single kidney (and sent me to him) and tumour situation in the first place, I would have come full circle!

Back to square one after all these $$$ spent.

The ultrasounds last month has revealed some small growths in my left ovary. While they are too small to be of concern right now, I feel kind of suspended in limbo, wondering if this is a sign that “IT is all coming back to me now”. I wonder also if this is how people feel when they are in cancer remission, the fear that it might come back someday will always haunt one.

I am somewhat glad that children are not in my plans. With my crummy family health history and apparently crummy genes, I don’t think it will be a good idea anyway.

By the way, it really bugs me to visit SGH. It feels like the entire sick senior population in Singapore is congregated there, and it really disturbs me to see them, and be reminded that the day may come when I will be one of them, unable to walk properly, speak intelligibly, see and hear clearly.

Aging is scary, aging with ill health is worse.

HAVING MY PORRIDGE AND EATING IT

I had my first bite of solid food at around 1030 hrs this morning after four days of fasting. It was just a simple butter bun, but oh, it tasted like ambroisia to me. Two hours later, I had some pork porridge. It tasted like those instant porridge mix and was cold, but did I care? It still tasted like heaven to me. And anyone who knows me well knows I HATE porridge. I used to say that I would rather starve than take porridge. I guess I had to eat my words as well as my porridge this morning.

There is nothing but porridge and clear soups on the horizon for the next week. I am not allowed to take vegetables or fruits (or any high fibre foods) for the next week fear of further blockage. A few years ago, this would have been welcomed news. I was one of your typical vegetables hating kids. But I am finding that I will be missing my greens in the next one week. What a turn around.

At any rate, I'm finally off the IV drip, a great blessng. Living with the IV has made for certain logistical problems, especially when using certain hygiene amenities. If I never see another IV needle, or any kind of needle for that matter, it wouldn't be any time too soon. Having small veins and lower blood pressure makes it difficult to get blood from me. Add doctors with bad aim, and I get bruises and pain galore. Nothing would ever persuade me to give blood after this, altrusim or not.

My one month medical leave is almost half over. I am not sure if I am closer to being reconciled to going back to work once the month is up. I am heartily sick of hospitals, pain and the feeling of having lost precious time in the last two weeks, and am definitely not envisioning prolonging my convalescence. Yet some part of me still wants to find some way to increase the length of my medical leave so that I don't have to go back to work for another month or so.

I refuse to spoil what remains of my "holiday" by dwelling on the negatives, so I herewith cancel all images of work from my brain and replace them with SimCity 4 and Carl's Junior Western Bacon burgers, which is how I intend to spend the rest of my convalescence. After I get over the next few days of porridge fest that is.

BACK IN HOSPITAL - A FARCE

I.AM.BACK.

In hospital.

Again.

The whole process was a major farce, exacerbated by poor doctors and worse diagnoses. It began when I started having terrible abdominal cramps and vomiting few days ago. It got so bad that I had to go to the A&E at the hospital nearest to home. On hindsight it was not the best plan, but I was too sick to make the longer trip to the hospital where I originally had my surgery.

My first A&E experience sucked. I am just going to quote two things the first A&E doctor said to me which underscored the whole experience:

"Let me think. Let me try and figure out whether there is a link with your surgery."
"I am not too sure if this two injections can mix. Maybe I will give it to you in different arms."

You can wonder at my confidence level at that point in time, and sure enough, I was back at the same A&E that evening. That night the doctor on duty came to see me, and after a long bout of questioning, I was told I only had a simple stomachache (in other words, making a big fuss out of nothing). I couldn't care less what I had, I only wanted the pain to stop so that I could sleep and eat. So I told him none of the meds they had given me worked, and if he could offer something to make me feel better. Hello, I didn't even think I needed to ask, I was white to the lips in pain. His reply?

"Medications are not magical potions, you know, but I can offer you a hot water bottle."

It was so cavalier that if I really had a hot water bottle on hand, I would have thrown it at him. Needless to say, I didn't sleep that night for the pain. It was a lot of tests and scans and a day of pain later, that this really cute, but maybe clueless doctor came to inform me that it seemed I might have an intestinal perforation, but they couldn't be sure, but they want to operate on me urgently to find out. Another operation a scant two weeks after my first - this was not news I wanted to hear. My family almost had hysterics.

And then, the cute doctor then hurried back to break the news that they had misread my scans and I had nothing more than some intestinal blockage, which a few days of fasting and intravenous drips would cure. Anyway, we had enough of the farce, so we asked for a transfer to my "surgery hospital".

Well, I got a blazing ride in an ambulance, another first, but no sirens blazing. It felt like the ambulance found every non-existent pothole in the roads; I had such a bumpy ride. I made a dramatic entrance into the A&E section of the second hospital, and had everyone staring at me. Not an experience I want repeated, at least, not when I am conscious.

The only good thing that came out of the whole thing is that I got upgraded to an A1 ward. A veritable hotel room all to my little self. However, the fact that I am on a water only diet takes the gilding out of everything. I.AM.HUNGRY. I have all the utmost respect to controlled fasting after this episode, but the hunger doesn't sit well with me. It gets worse when ever other program on TV is a foodie TV, thanks to a food obsessed nation.

Anyway, things are better already, and I only have one more day to endure, and then I can eat. I can't tell you how many times a Carl's Junior burger has paraded itself across my consciousness. I am determined that I am going to take a bite into one as soon as I am able, health/fitness conscious or not. When one has experienced a few continuous days of hunger, one learns to appreciate certain things better.

......AND BACK NOW....

So, I am back. Missing a few parts, but still functional (if I have ever been, that is).

The biopsy results were out before I left the hospital, and it was really as good as it could get, considering what we were all fearing before. I had a Stage 1 borderline tumor, which is neither benign nor malignant, but lies somewhere between the two. The oncologist says it is not life threatening, but may recur again, though the recur rates are much lower compared to normal malignant tumors (can a malignant tumor be normal though?). She said some other stuff, but I doubt anyone was listening after they heard "not life threatening".

It was a touching scene at my hospital bedside for a few minutes, with everyone in tears, even my usually stoic Dad. Dad called SB and she said she cried when she received the news. My mum actually rushed up and kissed me on my forehead, which embarrassed the hell out of me. We are really not a demonstrative family and I have never been subjected to treatment like this before. I was in tears myself, but that was more from pain than anything else, because the darn morphine pump wasn't working. I felt like I had been cut into half.

I had a bad two days of it after the surgery, but once I began to take solid food again, I began recovering at a grand rate. At this point, I am able to move around the house on my own, albeit very, very slowly, and cradling my tummy most gingerly. The only problem occurs when I need to cough, sneeze or laugh. I never did realise how much of your lower body muscles are involved during these actions. Everytime I cough or sneeze, I had to check surreptitiously to ensure that I have not burst my stitches and am holding my guts in my hands. Now that SB is back, meal times are a laugh a minute, which makes me go "Ha, ha, ha, OW! Ha, ha, OW! ha, ha, OW!", and that gets everybody going again.

I still cannot sit up for long, so this post ends here for now. More right up when I feel like it.

FINALLY....

All good things come to those who wait. As with everything else, there are always exceptions.

At any rate, despite the less than stellar diagnosis (ok, actually there is still no confirmed diagnosis), things are moving at long last. I get to sample the hospitality of Hotel KKH at the end of the month, the main course on the kitchen table being me. Haha, alright, alright, I'll stop with the morbid allusions for now.

With any luck, I'll be up and about in a month or so, maybe two. Although I wish it takes me a bit longer to recover that. I have no wish to abandon the days of lying in bed with a stack of books and being waited on hand and foot. The only inperfection I can see will be the dietary restrictions, but that is something I can bear with, I guess, if I can have the rest. If it takes me two weeks to get back into grove after a 10 day holiday, imagine how long it will take me to return to a grindstone mindset after a two month break! Just for a little while, I was almost tempted to wish chemo on myself just so I could extend the MC to six months, but it was just for a teeny weeny while. For one thing, my bank account could never stand that kind of drought......

I have been on the receiving end of many, many well wishes, some of which came from sources quite unexpected. And I am really grateful and touched. I am not one of those people who makes and keeps friends easily. There is a natural reserve on my part, and also sheer laziness that keeps me from making the effort to reach out. I used to wonder if I ever featured importantly enough in anyone's life, outside of my own immediate family, that they would say "I wish JT was here" or "Only JT will do." if I ever pass on? Ok, ok, no morbid thoughts.

I feel like a prospective mother waiting for their babies to be born. You know, must build up health, keep happy and optimistic, and calmly wait for the day to arrive. Except of course, this is like the situation in reverse, since it will involve babies who will now never see the light of day (oops, that's more morbidity for you). I don't know if it sounds weird, but I actually feel a sense of anticipation; it is a new experience after all, albeit one that most people could do without. And I'll be lying if I said I am not looking forward to all the pampering that would come after the main event. Haha.

By the way, in case anyone is interested, I like sunflowers and lilies, or yellow/orange gerberas, Love seedless grapes. Hate essence of chicken and other related chinese remedies. Love romance novels, drama, movies, anything with happy endings. This is really shameless, but when better to milk the situation for all it is worth, if not now? Mwahahaha.

WAITING

If there is anything I hate more than waiting, I have not discovered it yet.

Nov 4th seems very far away as I make my way through the antibiotics, and foul tasting Chinese medicine. And especially so when I think I already have my diagnosis. I don't feel if these two weeks are going to make much of a difference to my status. The tumor is not going to miraculously disappear. And my second opinion doctor and the TCM specialist apparently thinks so too, though they did not couch it in such brutal terms. So I just wish we could move the dates up and get it over and done with, chop-chop.

We are in a bit of a quandary regarding doctors. I am definitely ditching the doctor they will assign to me under the hospital's subsidised care scheme. No offense to the doctor (whoever he/she is), but it seems that even in healthcare, you get what you pay for. So we decided to go private. However, the private doctor who gave us my second opinion has declined to take on my case, and has referred me to another doctor. I have not seen this third doctor yet, but I have been given to understand that he is very experienced and in high demand. In addition, he also holds an extremely senior position at two hospitals. Now we are starting to worry that he will be too busy to devote much time to my care, me being no biggie in particular.

So after Nov 4th, I have to wait another two weeks to see Doctor No. 3 and if he turns out unsatisfactory, we may have to look for Doctor No. 4 etc etc. And I will have to wait and wait to go under the knife. Oh, the waiting sucks.

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I feel rather like shit these few days, probably because what I put in my mouth also taste like it. For all the advancement made in traditional chinese medicine, they never did find a way to make their herbal concoctions look and taste more appetizing. My life revolves around the two times a day I have to take the concoctions. It seems like I am already dreading my next bout before I have even swallowed this one. I don't know if this is a good thing, but the Chinese medicine has caused me to lose my appetite somewhat. For someone who loves to eat, it is certainly a new experience to need my mother to crack her brains to think of novel ways to tempt my appetite.

I also feel the occasional urge to brain my father, who has totally taken this organic produce thing too far. We have "JT's grapes" and "Daddy's grapes" in the fridge, "JT's veges" and "Daddy's veges" on the table. Mine are all organic, Dad's not - therein lies the difference. I have no idea why we can't all take organic produce together.

The only time I feel good is when I see a fast-food advertisement on TV. What won't I give for a nice juicy Mushroom Swiss burger now?

ONE SWORD OF DAMOCLES, HANGING ON THE WALL

The news have not been very good for me so far, but as there is no firm diagnosis yet, I guess there is no point in making a it big deal for now. Meanwhile, I have been sort of given a two week reprieve before the Sword of Damocles fall (or not), and we are using these two weeks to hope for a miracle cure.

So we have gone into "fight mode" at home. Or at least the parents and sundry friends and relatives. I have been dragged very reluctantly into this whole thing. The only reason why I am succumbing to the fiasco is purely because it would be too much trouble not to, and besides it gives the parents something else to focus on.

I have been inundated with traditional remedies from various parties. I would have been kept busy swallowing the whole day if we did everything which was offered, so we picked the easiest and the one with a proven track record. So now I am taking this Chinese herbal brew alongside my other medication from the hospital. The parents have replaced all the fruits and vegetables at home with organic produce. A relative comes by frequently with other offers - organic soups, herbs, TCM books, articles etc etc. There is a stack of articles on my desk pending my "reading pleasure", in Chinese no less.

Various people are kept busy contacting doctors and other TCM specialists for second opinions. I am getting kind of overwhelmed and bewildered. In fact, I am starting to feel as if I have to remain sick so as to justify all the activities that are on-going on my behalf. There is a part of me, however, that is wallowing a little at all the attention I am getting.

The next two weeks will be difficult. And only because I hate to wait. It feels like those days before I got my "O" and "A" level results, and I can't seem to settle down to anything because my heart is all aflutter.

Oh, by the way, I really do only have one kidney. It happens to be a congenital condition. Imagine it took me 31 years to discover such an important fact about myself. Really, they should have some kind of organ stock check for new borns, then we won't be surprised by this later in life, and when it really matters too. It doesn't impact on my health at the moment, but I felt a certain physical emptiness in my body when I was informed of the fact. Funny thing, the human psyche.

PLEASE JUST RELAX....

The mood at home is so somber. All because everyone is worried sick for my health. Except me.

How to let my mother stop crying? That is the most heartbreaking part of it. For myself, I couldn't care less, but I do wish there was some way to make my parents feel better.

Now I understand why patients of terminal illnesses have to keep their spirits up. It is really not so much for themselves, but for the other people around them.

I really don't think it will come down to the dreaded c-disease. I don't feel it in my body.

Oh man, I wish everyone could just relax. Because all this worry is starting to have effect on me. I'm starting to feel the beginnings of a sense of panic.

And I so don't need this now.

GOODBYE CHILDREN

Okay, so I have to have surgery. The ovarian cyst needs removing. Goodbye, my unfated children.

They had to take a bit of blood to check for cancer markers. I hate giving blood or inserting IVs, because it almost always means they have to poke me a few times before they get a working vein. And those needles aren't exactly small. Anyway, if I don't hear from them in the next seven days, I get out of jail free. If I do - too bad. Feels a bit like playing Russian roulette.

Why then am I still feeling so....so....cheerful?

Perhaps it is the thought that I'll finally get some flowers delivered to me. I always wanted to have someone send me flowers, but I guess this is a bit over the top to achieve this. Haha.

Mum went with me to the gynae today, and I thought she was going to burst into tears any minute. She probably sighed about fifty times in the course of the whole day. I am so sorry that she has to go through all this, made worse by the fact that I personally don't feel anything. She says she is not sure could take any more bad news, so for her sake more than mine, I am praying that the blood test is clean, and I don't have cancer.

We are not by nature one of those huggy, kissy families. My parents show concern by nagging. What to eat, not to eat, when to eat, what to do, etc etc. I don't blame them, I really don't. But this is also the period when I need the most me-time. So I have been driven clean out of my mind this one month.

Anyway, I learnt today that I have got a bicornuate uterus, which is pretty uncommon, it seems. And not so good. Apparently, because of this, I am prone to miscarriages. Wow. So I guess it is a good thing that I don't want children. It would have been heartbreaking for me otherwise.

And also I am likely to be subject to earlier menopause after removal of the ovary. Oh man, that was so not what I wanted to hear. Other than that, one ovary short won't leave me any different from what I am now.

So yeah, I am up for anything they throw at me. Though I probably will change my tune soon, because if there is anything I dread more than needles, it is the thought of bedpans.

Ewww.....

HEALTH UPDATE

So, after all the scans and scopes and consultations and hundreds of dollars spent, the conclusion is that I do not have any obvious gastro-abnormalities. Whatever gastric pains and stuff I have been suffering from is probably due to a sensitive stomach and maybe in my head. Stress supposedly does weird things to the nervous system. At least no one has accused me of hypochondria yet.

What I do have at the moment though, is one MIA kidney and an enlarged ovary.

The above findings were incidental to the abdominal ultrasound I did last week for my gastric problems.

Sometimes, it seems that we go looking for our own troubles.

Well, it started innocently enough. I was supposed to do an ultrasound scan on my upper abdomen area to see if there are any problems with my liver and gall bladder. No problems there. I am not sure whether the radiologist was supposed to also look at the kidneys at all, or if it was just due diligence on her part, but she realised she couldn't find the left kidney where it usually is. She scanned all around, until she reached my spine....still no kidney. She went downwards towards the pelvic area, still no kidney. Went up to my chest, still no kidney. Basically, unless my kidney has decided to live above my heart, or in my legs, it didn't show up on the screen.

What did show up though, when she did the pelvic scan, was an enlarged right ovary, with what appears to be some kind of cystic growth.

Wow, one problem solved, with two other potential problems arising.

So, I have to spend another hundred plus bucks to find out where the left kidney has misplaced itself. Or whether I am one of those mutants who are born with only kidney. Or whether my left kidney has actually shrunk and atrophied without my knowledge. I still have my right kidney and it is working fine, based on a recent blood test. But a missing kidney is not something I can dismiss so easily. And I get kind of insecure when I think of the possibility that I might only have one kidney left. Like the creator left me with no back-up plans. I am an engineer after all....I like safety factors.

Then I have to see a gynaecologist for the ovarian issue. I'm not so concerned there. In a worst case scenario, I will be required to remove it. And well, that will be a million potential children gone down the hospital disposal chute, but since I never did intend to contribute to the national birth average in the first place, I don't feel the pinch. I am more concerned about the hormonal impact - I don't want to end up menopausal at the age of 31. The thought of saggy skin and hot flashes plain scares me.

I probably sound rather cavalier about the whole thing, but the truth is, I am not feeling anything. At all. No fear, no worries. In fact, I rather welcome the downtime if surgery is really required. SB thinks I need to see a shrink for all this emotional numbness that I am displaying.

Though I feel rather sorry for my parents, who are showing signs of stress at my disclosure. I guess it is a million potential grandchildren after all. Although I am actually more concerned that there is no one at the moment to fertilise those eggs even if I get to keep them. Haha.

So, the investigation continues. I just hope my Medisave account can hold up under the strain.

MASSAGE WOES

Just got back from being pummelled. By my masseuse (I had to stop and use MS Word to check that spelling...fail...).

I have no idea why massages are supposed to be relaxing. Sure, parts of it were not so bad, but I spent most of my session gritting my teeth, especially when she was working on my shoulders. Getting the knots out of the muscles was pure torture, and having to maintain a conversation with a chatty masseuse in the midst of it, is a feat of superhuman endurance. I sure never knew I had such a high tolerance for pain until I started my massages. I wonder if I am the only one who has muscle aches the day after the massage. I thought the massage was the cure, not the cause....

And they like to use this hot wrap which contains tumeric ginger on me. The first time it was done, I thought I was being set on fire. I remember thinking this must be what the those guys in the burning US World Trade Centre must have felt like during 911, for them to choose a sure death by leaping out of the building. This was the one and only time my stoicism failed me. I screamed for the masseuse to come and relive me (she didn't, and all I had to show for it was an additional sore throat on top of burning skin). This time round, I forgot to warn them NOT to use it on me. Thankfully, the masseuse didn't leave it on too long and got to me before I started yelling. I'm not sure what the ginger is supposed to achieve, my I wouldn't go through that again for all the smooth skin in the world....

I just hope it wouldn't be so bad for Muay Thai tomorrow....

MY MINOR OPERATION

I decided that since this is not meant to be only an MJ blog, I should continue to post as and when I feel like it.....

Went for the biopsy on the sebaceous cyst on my back today. The lump on my back has been fully removed, and when it was over, the doctor showed me the removed bloody and fatty cyst. I have no idea why they like to do that. It seems like they have to show you the results to prove that they have done something for the amount they are charging. Or maybe to remind you, and themselves, that the correct part has been removed and you don't go back two months later to complain that some part of you doesn't work too well. I still remember when they showed SB the remains of her removed appendix, with a piece of sh*t stuck in it. I think she still has the photo of it to remind her that she used to have an appendix.

Anyway, I was operated on by a student doctor still on housemanship, with the specialist standing by with instructions and comments. Since I was only on partial anesthesia, I could still hear all that was going on. And it was NOT reassuring to hear the following comments from the specialist throughout the op:

"What are you doing???"
"No, that's the (muscle) fiber, NOT the cyst..."
"Always understand what you are doing, don't get distracted...."
"If you can't see what you are doing, stop and mop up first..."
"I think its better if you......"

And from the nurse standing by (in a very happy tone):

"Oops, the cyst broke!"

It was only a small biopsy and even though I couldn't feel a thing, I wish they had knocked me out completely with a full anesthesia.

Anyway, I am left with a small achy wound on my back and 5 days MC. I am resisting taking the painkillers. I hope the pain keeps itself away until after Christmas Eve dinner at Shangri-La. I would hate to have to skip the free-flow cocktails after paying through my nose....