The Mysterious Affliction Continues

Patient and doctor painting

 

Friday afternoon, while most of you healthy people were hurrying home from work or school, or visiting your favorite restaurants or cafes or shops, in short, while you were enjoying the comforts of your mostly urban existence, the asthenic boy who writes these lines had to lie flat upon a medical couch while a short and slim lady-hematologist about 50 years old (not at all bad looking, if I may add) pressed her fingers into his groin or thereabout, much to his dismay.

‘Do you have a girlfriend?’ she asked.

‘I am a bachelor,’ I excused myself.

‘I’m serious,’ she said, pushing her fingers more deeply. ‘Have you had unprotected sex?’

Certainly not, sorry to disappoint you, curious reader. Literature is my mistress, and to her I have been faithful these past few years. Do I miss the sense of intimacy, of companionship, of dependency associated with a romantic relationship? Sometimes I do, but most of the time I don’t. Being solitary has its advantages, especially when faced with, ahem, the prospect of death. It’s easier to die alone than surrounded by others. Less regret, less disappointment, less tragedy.

‘No swollen lymph nodes in the groin,’ she said, looking at me half-relieved, half-worried. Still, that doesn’t rule out a virus such as Epstein-Barr. I’ll send you to do some more blood tests and if those are inconclusive you can do a biopsy.’

Thus this week the boy will be copiously pricked; large quantities of his blood will be extracted. The next week he will probably have to be cut in the neck, so that a suspicious peanut-like lymph node may be removed and stared at under a microscope. For his part, he is prepared for the worst. Rather than fear, at present he experiences a fascinating curiosity as to what will come next. Has he truly self-diagnosed himself accurately with Hodgkin’s lymphoma? Or is he wrong? Stay tuned as the boy’s medical drama unfolds…

 

 

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28 thoughts on “The Mysterious Affliction Continues

  1. I hope you get answers soon dear; I hope your official diagnosis is far less lethal than your self-diagnosis. I am thinking good thoughts & sending positive vibrations (aka prayers, to some). Thank you for keeping us posted & please take care of yourself, as well as you can.

  2. It is never fun to be a medical mystery.I like you was swallowing a capsule full of tiny circles and getting the first of many X-ray this morning. Next Monday it all culminates in my second Colonoscopy in a week and half. Ugh! I understand the frustration and the solitude.

    My dearest friend had Lymphoma and is now 6 years cancer free. I add this in case you’re accurate with your diagnosis.

    And finally I will say don’t put up your walls. Even I know it is easier. But it is only by letting ourselves be loved that we can find our way towards healing. Or at least this is the lesson I seem to be learning. That it is okay to need others, to be vulnerable. That I am not a burden. And to ask for help and support is simply reflections of love. I am wishing you well.

  3. Boy with the Hat, you must live for many years to bring the world your words. This is my decree. You are not alone. I send my prayer straight to the lump- may it decrease and wither.

  4. I am saddened by your reasons of being alone. I’ve never visited before, so I must dig deeper in your blog. You forgot to add less joy when listing about being alone. You are not alone – you are connected via blogging and the internet, My hope for you is wellness and healing and happiness. 🙂

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