January 11th: My entire head swelled up to catch up with my ears. And now, it’s spread to my whole body. Every inch of me is covered in whelts that are raised, hot, red and itchy.
I dab at my skin continuously with a soda bicarbonate solution, then apply a generous layer of calamine lotion. It helps for a little while, but the burning and itching come back only minutes later.
Whatever this is, I don’t think it’s on my skin; I feel like it’s in my blood.
I’m constantly dabbing, making rounds of my face, head, limbs and torso and stretching to reach the areas on my back.
My appetite has completely diminished, and I get no sleep, day or night, even with all the antihistamines I’m taking. I only pass out for a few minutes out of sheer exhaustion, then the burning and itching wake me again, and I start dabbing all over again. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy!
The continuous movement obviously disturbs my husband at night. He has to go to work during the day, so I make up a bed on the floor, and I stay there day and night.
I only see Jai from afar. I want to cuddle him. I don’t know if he even recognises me.
January 12th: I desperately want to see my mother. But she’s just had a hysterectomy. (She was only 39 years old and her hormonal issues also caught her young, just like me).
My mother-in-law tells my mother on the phone (there was no video calling in those days), it’s probably a good thing she doesn’t see me like this; she wouldn’t be able to handle it.
January 13th. Still no proper sleep. Still no improvement.
Mother Esther, a dear family friend, an English lady, whom I see as a grandmother, comes to visit me. She’s in her 80s and still beautiful with large, striking blue eyes and a kind, pillowy face. She’s lived through World War II, and she was a Pears Soap baby model in the early 1900s.
Mother Esther looks at me with a pained expression and says it looks like the Scarlet Fever from her day. Scarlet Fever was the leading cause of death in children before antibiotics. I’ve read Little Women, and I remember what happened to Beth. But surely this doesn’t exist anymore?
January 15th: The Jain Sadhvis come home to see me and give me a blessing. I can barely acknowledge their presence as I’m so exhausted.
January 16th: My throat has begun closing up. I can’t swallow. It hurts so much. And my joints have become stiff, especially my knuckles.
I can’t straighten my fingers. My hands are no longer hands; they look like an ancient creature’s claws, matching my face and body that resemble the monster from the Black Lagoon.
I’m so hot I need all the windows open all the time.
I vomit right there in my bed.
The GP is called home.
Finally, he gives me antibiotics.
January 18th: I’m getting better. My temperature is down, I can swallow, and my body is no longer itchy.
January 30th: My 3rd round of surgery. The tumour is removed. It measures 6cm. Thankfully, it’s benign. Upon my discharge from the hospital, the surgeon gave me a photo of it. More endometriosis is lasered away. How come it never seems to go away?
Sitting up in the hospital bed, I notice I still get slight welts when I tie my hair up, just like I did when this mysterious illness started, but they’re very slight and disappear after a while.
I feel for my husband. We haven’t shared an intimate moment in a long while because I’m always in pain. I really want another baby, though. I’m losing hope…
(Originally published on os.me on January 13, 2023)