OF AGE AND PAIN


I went to UHWC, the campus health clinic, this evening.

Cheerful, amiable, polite, and good-natured he is. Never mind his strange accent. The admirable and sunshine attitude he carries at work endears him to everyone almost immediately; maybe even unbeknownst to him himself.

"Here," he beckoned to a young lady in a friendly tone and handed her a piece of clothing, "change into this. Remove your shirt and bra. And oh! Your necklace too." And he directed her to one of the changing rooms.

I winced inwardly. If there is one thing I dislike, it is indiscretion. Women deserve their privacy, you know? And it doesn't help that due to overcrowding, there were 3 gentlemen sitting beside me in the Female Waiting Area. To be fair, I can't fault the radiologist too. There's nothing much he can do. I feel bad for the lady, really. But well, at least that piece of clothing is in a dark navy blue shade, and not an embarrassing white.

In my opinion, some occupations are best left to womenfolk. Fine examples are gynaecologists and radiologists.

Luckily for me - as I was pretty far back in the queue - by the time it was my turn, only a professor was left waiting with me in the Female Waiting Area. The radiologist was keying in my particulars into the computer system when I was called forward.

"Miss Phua," He turned from the computer and smiled, "I'll need you to sign here. You know, the usual procedure to declare that you're not pregnant. And I'll need you to fill up this information here too." Pointing at the tiny box on the bottom-right-hand side with the words "LMP:_________", he continued, "The last date of your menses."

My eyes widened. Gosh. So strict, ah? They need to know the exact date of the last menstruation too???!!! And I thought it was already enough to declare that there's no life existing in my abdomen area.

"Errr..." I was lost for speech. Gesturing helplessly with my left hand and careful to face my back to the professor, I jabbed my index finger southwards, towards the floor. It's the universal body-language to indicate the word "now".

"Oh. You having?"

"... ... ... Yah"

"Which day already?" He asked conversationally, as though he's inquiring about something no more paranormal than the weather.

Something in me sank, and I groaned inwardly. Can't he spare me? Is there a necessity for such fine details? It feels weird and freaky, you know, discussing something this personal with a male. AND a stranger at that. Wrinkling my forehead in an attempt to backcount and careful to whisper, I replied, "The 3rd".

"3rd day ah? Ok, no problem. Sit down for a moment please, while I complete the registration."

I've said. Gynaecologists and radiologists should be females. Males should be banned from these professions.


Anyway, today's my first time doing a sacral scan. And it's a fresh experience, you know, not having to change into the X-ray cloth-apron that's reserved for females for lung scans. Definitely a lot less cumbersome. And unlike lung scans where we have to press up against some cold and hard vertical surface, I get to lie down on the bed. And what's more, there are no incessant, barking orders of, "OKAY!!! BREATHE IN BREATHE IN!!! INHALE DEEPLY!!! FULLY EXPAND YOUR LUNGS!!! AND HOLD IT THERE!!! DON'T MOVE DON'T MOVE!!! DON'T EXHALE, HOLD YOUR BREATH!!! 1! 2! 3! Okay! Done!"

Awww Ahhh... Peace and quiet.



Lying in a horizontal position, with the radiation-scanner towering over me like the dentist's spotlight, I can't help but to wonder, "Is this how it feels like to be in an Operation Theater?" And I started to wonder if this is also how it feels like for a pregnant woman in a delivery suit too. Except that it would be, in my opinion, much more worse because 1) she's in extreme pain 2) she's worried for the health of the baby and birth complications, and 3) she's in a room with a team of complete strangers and midwives and nurses and doctors.
The trepidation, apprehension, and the sense of foreboding. Shivers. It's something that men will never understand.

Anyway, I burned a big hole in my pockets. The sacral scan cost S$40.00. I had initially thought that it would be cheaper, at a price of at most S$20plus, since the fees are heavily subsidized by campus. It was only in the X-ray room then did I realize the reason behind the unexpected steep price: I had to take 2 scans of my lower back --- 1 from the front, and 1 from the side.

Grrr... S$40 flew away. And another additional S$1.82 for the painkillers and antacids. A total of S$41.82 off my pockets.

Hope that the X-ray films will reveal nothing wrong with my vertebrate column. The lower back pain has been bothering me for weeks. It's so bad that I can't fully stretch out both legs while sitting on the floor. And I can't incline or bend forward without sharp pains shotting off from the lower back region. And no, I don't intend to pop the painkillers. Because my daily movement is not very much hampered in any way; provided that I don't attempt to stretch my legs or bend my back. Because I believe that medicine should always be taken as a last resort. Because I believe that medicine generally have side-effects; known or unknown. Because the painkillers I've been prescribed with can cause gastric pain, and hence the antacid as a counteract. AND because I hate to sallow pills. As always, yours truly have a thousand and one excuses not to eat her medicine.




Sometimes, you know that age's catching up with you when pains and aches don't go away as fast as they used to.

Aiyo. Don't want to admit old also cannot, lah!