Thursday, September 26, 2013

Achy Breaky Gut

Last evening, I experienced some stomach pains. Thinking I might have food poisoning, I quickly went to my stash of meds. I took activated charcoal, buscopan and for preventive measures - oral rehydration salts and Smecta. Also took some painkillers to take the edge off.

The pain became a burn and I had to put off any work scheduled last night in favour of sleep.

I woke up this morning with severe abdominal pains. It was equally distributed on the top part of my stomach. I was worried.

So I put on some shorts - sometimes I like to sleep with my dick hanging out - and waited for a cab, while messaging all my appointments today that I might have to cancel.

As soon as I got a cab, I went in and told the driver my clinic in Bangsar.

"Are you sick?" he asked.

Pallor, sweating, clutching my stomach. No shit, Sherlock.


"Oh, I was sick, blah blah blah. Blah Blah Blah. Memememememememememememememememe! Me! Me-Me!"

This is the failure of many unevolved monkeys - the self-centeredness and self-absorbed nature that has made many potential evolutionary candidates into blabbering apes who can't stop talking about themselves in order to do their fucking work effectively.

The last thing I wanted to do at that time was to entertain a stupid idiot's ego. So I told him, in an abrasive tone, "Yeah, SURE."

Noticing my anger, the monkey shut up.

And then he opened his monkey trap again.

"Are you in pain?"

"Just get me to where I want to go."

And he shut up the rest of the way, having evolved to being human due to my radioactive anger and slow-burn pain.

As I stepped into the clinic, I told the girl manning the counter, "I am in severe abdominal pain. Can we just register later - I need to see the doctor now. Like, NOW."

She just looked everywhere except my face and handed me a piece of paper to write my name and IC number. What a fucking monkey.

I had half a mind to give her my IC, but realising she is a monkey, the damn animal might shove it up her ass or something.

So gritting my teeth and holding my slowly exploding gut, I wrote the necessary information.

I was waiting for the doctor. The pain made me impatient, so I said to the monkey, in BM, "Saya tengah sakit sangat ni. Boleh jumpa doktor sekarang?"

"Doktor pergi toilet," came the response.

Great bedside manners, bitch. If I die to some tumor or whatever, I'm coming back specifically to haunt your sorry ass.

A minute later, I got to see the doctor. I gave him the nature of my condition and also my patient history relating to this matter - I once ingested two Syntex's Anaprox DS 550mg pills, causing severe stomach pains which required IV medication.

I gave him a list of meds I am taking and any substance I have taken or exposed to over the past two weeks.

He took down notes, listened to my stomach using his stethoscope and asked me this final question:

"Is it a twisting pain or a throbbing pain?"

"It's a... burning pain," I said.

"You have gastritis."

"You sure? Any other diagnosis?"

"Do you take spicy food?"

"Yes. Had South Indian Beriyani - rich in spices - a few days ago, masak lemak cili api, oh, and I also have a stash of Naga Jolokia - the hottest chilli known to man, exceeding 2 million on the Scoville scale."

"Are you stressed?"

"Very much so. I am handling three companies and seven projects at the same time, I am chasing after people who owe me money and I apparently live in a world filled with self-absorbed idiots and dishonourable monkeys."

"Yes, I believe it is gastritis."

So he prescribed me four types of meds and advised me on my diet, as well as a possible long-term treatment to restore my stomach lining.

I asked for a jab of painkillers and he gave me one. In the ass. It was Tramadol, which they also give to dogs.

I left the clinic feeling slightly better, so I had breakfast with my sister.

Walking, though, caused some increase in the intensity of the dulled-out pain. So I got myself a bottle of Gaviscon. That did the trick, and I am now at home, thinking I should probably sleep to ensure I don't smoke as much.

The meds are enough for five days. I hope to be up and about by Saturday, though. That's whn I perform at Art for Grabs.