Admitted.

The week as unfurled like a flower. It is terrible shame that I am in a hospital bed.

On Monday my prophylaxis started. Since I need to get this plasmapheresis thing on a daily basis for four to six weeks I have had to be admitted. “Nothing serious, though,” said the doctor. However, life at these genteel hospitals is just like home.

The room is a comfy hodge-podge of overstuffed flowers, bookshelves and a collection of DVDs, 3D Sony Plasma Screen TV and home theatre. I felt my whole body relax the moment I entered this room, and the hope of living to see a grand kid rise a notch higher.

I wake up every morning thinking about life instead of death. The nurse, Carolynah Mwende, a saint if ever there was one, is ever by my side. Given a choice I would object to being imprisoned in the name of treatment, but the doctor insists that it’s the only way. What do I do – I am technically on compulsory leave, on medical grounds that is, so I call it vacation time and get the rest of a lifetime.

I do understand what this means. My condition is critical, and something should be done if I really wanna live to my year’s resolution.

Okay doc.

Just go ahead with damn prophylaxis.

Agitated thoughts bounce in my head about the seriousness of my condition.

97% fatality rate. With effective prophylaxis, survival up to six months is around 80%.

Then I think of my family back home – mom, dad and Daliah. I’ve not yet called them with the news. It would kill mom, and that frank myocardial infarct would take down dad instead of me.

Well, I should have told them, just in case, but I have this feeling – woman intuition – not to. In any case, I should tell the girls, my three best friends in the whole wide world away from home, but guess I haven’t. They are the closest thing to a family I have while am over here, but I feel that what I am going through is too private to have them picked by my privacy radar.

Nonetheless, I know they shall know. They will call the office, even tramp there physically, and Sheila would tell them what she knows. Yeah, they would be mad at me, but what can I do? Or maybe they already know and they are waiting on me to break the news to them.

The doctor had told me to bring along anything that I thought would make this va-ca-tion – can you say that again – a bit light for me. I just did that – a dozen novels I’d been wanting to read; my Jewish-American movies, especially Shiri Appleby’s; and my laptop.

As the sun brightens the day each day, I find my mood lightening, more zeal to live being pumped in my deathly sick body.

It has been a stunning week, if you can imagine what I mean, and it’s been all mine. I alternate between reading, watching movies and news to catch up on what’s happening in the fricking-fracking world out there and sleeping.

Carolynah has secured a wheelchair for me. She has been wheeling me to the balcony to catch some air. If all people of the world were like this, life would be happier, easier and healthier.

Copyright ©2012.

Elove Poetry. All rights Reserved.

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