big girls don't cry.


i repeatedly told this to myself as i walked from one hospital lab to the other. breathe in... breathe out... don't worry ice. you're a big girl. you can do this. the pain will go away. inhale... exhale... this i said to myself while being prodded and poked by my ob-gyne. i didn't know how hard my knees were shaking until i got off the bed and walked outside of my doctor's office. thankfully, i was able to find myself an empty bench in a quiet corner next to my doctor's room. inhale...exhale...everything's going to be all right. there's nothing to worry about... you'll be fine... i assured myself as i waited for the results of my lab exam. finally, i was told i could go home and rest. my doctor will be seeing me again sometime next week to discuss my medication.


i lit up a cigarette as soon as i got out of the hospital. i just hate hospitals and clinics. I hate it as much as I hate airports. Maybe a lot more. There's a chance you could get reunited with a love one on an airport somewhere. On a hospital, they're usually bound to never come back. Death is silent, sudden, and final. I hate to be reminded of my mortality. Ihate visist to doctors and dentists as well. I hate having to be at the mercy and expertise of someone whose life expectancy could probably be a lot lower than mine. I hate how hospitals smell. And i most especially hate going there alone.


i barely was able to finish my cigarette. I was wrong to think that smoking would calm me and take my mind off the nagging pain in my abdomen. not even having lunch with keith shortly afterwards helped to alleviate the pain. i was happy to be with him again but that happiness bordered more on relief. i have someone to spend the day with for a change. it was then that i realized my abdomen was no longer hurting that much. there is still that insistent pain, but it was far from physical. i realized that my heart was hurting as well... it has been hurting all along...