After a year, I'm still alive
Upon writing this, I was out of the hospital, doing nothing but recovering and getting active as much as my body could.
To be honest, I don't know what to write; I just want to feel the same motivation I had when I first dreamed of becoming a writer. Now I lost my touch and was a shell of my former self. I couldn't even finish a book, even though the story captured my attention. I've always been halfway there, almost there, or where I should have been. It's tiring.
It's been a year since I left LiveJournal due to work reasons, and now I'm back because I lost that job after a year. After a year of doing call center work, my body and mind broke down.
Let me trace back my steps from the day I broke down.
August 30, 2023
That's the most memorable date so far this year. I had dull chest pains. Migraines were constant, and my eyes hurt when I'm doing the usual routine at work. I got up, took a bio (loo) break, and splashed my face with some cold water to "wake my senses up".
After that, I felt a prickling sensation on my chest. It was getting harder to breathe, and my vision was getting blurry. It's like someone is squeezing my neck. It's hard to get the air in and out of my body. I had to be sent to the company clinic.
At the company clinic, they gave the usual: paracetamol, pain relievers, hot compresses for the chest, and bed rest. Three hours in, and none of the medicines are working. The clinic said I should be sent to the hospital emergency room as soon as possible. So what they did was give me a discharge slip, which I gave to one of my managers. The manager who assisted me sensed I couldn't possibly send myself to the hospital, as walking alone is a struggle. My legs are getting weak, as if the floor is wobbly, and I can't find my balance. My hands are losing grip-as if everything I touch becomes slippery-and my entire body is shaking as if being electrocuted from the inside. In short, I was a complete mess, and if I'm going to send myself to the hospital in that condition, I might have fainted in the middle of the hot, sunny afternoon when the temperature is close to 38 degrees Celsius outside.
The manager sent me back to the clinic to rest, make a phone call, and ask anyone to pick me up from the company clinic. I need immediate medical care, as breathing has become a challenge that I'm slowly losing.
Good thing my mom was not at work that day. She picked me up and made sure I was okay. I was sent to the hospital that day. Emergency doctors took some vitals and took a lot of blood tests, but no one saw anything. So I was sent home. It took many emergency visits to the hospital for the doctors to finally discover what I'm feeling, but we'll get back to that later.
I stayed for two days in the emergency section before I was sent home. My diagnosis at that time was costochondritis, and the doctors said I should be okay after a week or so. I was never okay. Gradually, my symptoms became worse.
Since the doctors saw nothing life-threatening, I was sent home. My manager demanded that I at least work from home if possible. I knew I wasn't feeling well, but since there's no diagnosis, I have to go to work nonetheless. I need to fill a certain headcount, and the company can no longer give me paid sick leave. Like any good employee, I complied. Little by little, it's no longer just chest pains I'm experiencing. I was vomiting, feeling dizzy, and losing my appetite. I was sent out again to the emergency room, but the emergency doctors were writing the same diagnosis. I was sent home again after another two days.
After I was sent home for the second time, that's when the fainting spells started. Breathing becomes more painful than usual, and when I take in some air, I can feel a hundred sharp needles stabbing my chest. Before I knew it, my face was flat on the floor. I don't know what happened before that. I was losing consciousness. After I fainted and woke up, I would vomit until I lost my strength. Mom was scared of leaving me alone at home, as my sickness was unpredictable.
I would have guessed that third time's the charm; I was sent again to the emergency room for the third time. My mom recalled seeing my face getting redder and turning black as I was vomiting before my work shift started. I also fainted lots of times, as breathing was difficult. I cannot take in air without feeling tiny needles prickling my already fragile heart. I had to be sent to the hospital, and this time, no one could get me out until doctors figured out what's wrong with me.
Upon further insistence by my mother, I was confined to the hospital. The emergency doctor who sent me home twice can no longer say anything, as it's been more than one month and my condition is only getting worse. So more tests were done, and many medical procedures followed next. To my family's shock, I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, which is growing at a rapid pace.
My left thyroid was removed after it was discovered. My mother decided not to remove the right thyroid, as I might still need it. I'd have to monitor the right thyroid at least every three months at the clinic to ensure my endocrinologist will take care of it. After my thyroid was removed, I stayed at the hospital for five more days until we decided to leave and recover at home. Also, I resigned from the call center job I had, as I needed to rest my voice.
It's been three weeks since the operation, and I'd say I've improved a lot, health-wise. I was no longer complaining about my chest pain. I can walk without a wheelchair (which I used for a month to move around), I can do basic chores, I can sing as long as I won't tire my voice, and now I'm slowly doing the hobbies I neglected since I had my job. I had so much time with my hands, but I worry about having money. In my country, there are neither health benefits nor unemployment assistance. I can only rely on what I saved and what my mother can shell out for me. After some time, I was thinking of getting at least a work-from-home job, especially in copywriting or teaching English. For now, that's all I can say. I had no concrete plans for my future, and I'm teetering between postponing a job search and wanting to search for a job as soon as possible.
I don't know whether I should be thankful I am still alive, as my depression is also getting worse. I used to live on my own, away from my parents' house, but now I'm back with my folks. My freedom is restricted, though. To be fair, I can rest and do household chores, but I'm practically living rent-free.
I missed my apartment and my job, which enabled me to live on my own. I hate it whenever my stepdad yells at me for basically nothing, like watching a Youtube video, because I can't sleep and my neck is hurting. I wasn't bothering anyone, but he's minding my business and shoved it in my face that since I wasn't contributing to anything, I might as well stop becoming a burden and maybe leave. This is why I am desperate to look for work, as I know only my biological mother will care for me as a family; the rest of the people she lived with will not. I hate feeling helpless and needing others when I used to pay my own bills and do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. My stepdad can't even clean up after himself, but mom tolerates this laziness. When I had my apartment, I made sure my bathroom was spotless every week. I also do my own laundry, my groceries are made every week, and I cook and clean whenever I can. I hate it that it's only mom and I who attempt to clean the house when the men in the family aren't doing so. To think that it's my mother who's actually the breadwinner of the family, and she's also doing a lot of domestic chores, I feel sick and tired of putting up with this dysfunctional shit. I want my old life back.