There is no room for doubt

I underwent a medical examination the other day. I have this recurring stomach problem, which takes place off and on for 2 years now, resulting in almost perpetual bloating. My mistake is telling people about it. The reason I told people about it is I am ‘manja’ and just wanted some love and attention. Instead, they kept telling me to get it checked. I did go to 2 doctors and both said there was nothing wrong. But the problem persisted. They said I should see a specialist. Against my better judgment, I did.

I hate doctors, hospitals, medicine, and anything remotely related to these. It’s almost primitive and instinctive because as far as I can remember, I’ve always hated it. And after what I went through, I decided I will never go back again, not unless a limb is about to fall off or something as serious as that.

First, I did a blood test. That’s a needle through my vein on my arm. Then I did a gastroscope. That’s a needle through my vein on the back of my hand for the sedative, then a tube down my throat to my stomach. I had sore throat for the rest of the day. Then I did an ultra sound. That was physically painless but emotionally tortuous because the doctor asked me whether this was my first time, and while I answered ‘yes’ aloud, internally I answered ‘…and probably my last time; I don’t think I’m having any children.’ And when he pointed out on the screen my ovaries and my womb, internally I was thinking ‘…which will never be used! I will die as I came, not using all that was given to me.’ And the only reason why I didn’t cry on the examination table was because I was worried the doctor would send me to the psychiatric unit next and I had just about enough of hospitals and doctors and medical instruments (instruments of torture if you ask me) by then.

After all that, the verdict was that there was absolutely nothing wrong. The doctor prescribed some medications. So I really didn’t have to go for a checkup in the first place. This is my problem. I always listen to other people and start doubting my own convictions. I should have more faith in my own body, in myself. People, no matter how good their intentions are, or no matter how much they think they know me, are not me. Surely I should know myself best. And I do. But I also doubt. That has to change.