“…let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action” 1 John 18

So, I‘ve been sulking for the past two weeks.  Life has been giving me a hard time, I thought with self-pity. 

One night while at the computer, my hand wandered to the left side of my cheekbone and discovered a tiny bump somewhat similar to a mosquito bite.  It was painless, and so, I thought nothing of it.

The next two days the bump ballooned into a huge lump.  It made me looked like Frankenstein with a swollen face on one side.  Still I did not go to the doctor.  I was consuming a thirty day detox package, and thought that maybe this was a side effect. 

Another day went by with me looking hideous, but it was all right since I rarely go out, and my children didn’t seem to be bothered by my altered appearance.

Later that night, my hand wandered again and discovered that I had a swell behind my left ear.  It was the same side where the lump was.  When I went to bed that evening, my ear throbbed.  Needless to say, I had a sleepless night.

Fear can drive a person to act swiftly.  The next day, I consulted a doctor immediately.  He shone a torchlight at my face.  He diagnosed my ugly lump as shingles. 

“This is a case of a weak immune system,” he told me.  Great.

He prescribed medicine for me, and told me not to breastfeed.  I asked for an alternative medicine, but was told that there was none. 

I had to decide.  I didn’t want to look like Frankenstein for the rest of my life, so I took the no breastfeeding choice.   One tablet four times a day, and no breastfeeding made my life totally miserable.

The baby slept fitfully that night.  My mother who was so kind to help me out, also didn’t sleep well.  My breasts were engorged.  I tried pumping them for some relief but could not completely drain them.  Besides, my lump didn’t seem to be getting better despite the aggressive treatment. 

I was ready to look like Frankenstein for the rest of my life just to make my baby and me happy once again.  Anyway, my spouse, in order to save the sanity of his family, checked the internet to learn more about the medicine I had been given.  We read that it was safe to consume the medication and breastfeed at the same time. 

This is not happening, I thought, after having to put up with the baby’s fuss. 

Anyway, I continued consuming the same medicine and breastfeeding simultaneously after consulting another doctor.  I was happy once again and thankfully, so was the baby. 

My shingles eventually shrivelled and dried up.  However it left behind a scar that stubbornly would not go away.  Thank goodness, the swell disappeared all together.    

My life resettled to its regular rhythm.  I breathed easier.  I started consciously looking after my health.  I started with the basic, like drinking three litres of waters daily.  I made the effort to put on my walking shoes every morning. 

Surely, life can only get better with a healthier lifestyle.

Then, James came home from school with a fever.  He complained of a sore throat.   Two days after this, his skin was dotted with a red rash at the buttocks.  His doctor, took one look and said he has hand-foot-and-mouth illness. 

“It’s contagious,” she told me.  It must be, because when I was still in the consulting room, she had washed her hands twice and swiped her table with an alcohol swab.

“First the shingles, and now this,” I whined. “This is just too much.” My spouse patiently heard me out. 

My mum who again, so kindly helped me with the children also caught this infectious illness. Her beautiful hands were dotted red, and so were her feet. This happened one week before her son’s wedding. 

She was entirely miserable regarding the whole situation and, the lousy timing.  She found solace in talking constantly about the illness.  This illness that plagued her that she so freely confided in her siblings eventually turned against her.  Relatives who knew of her illness did not dare come close to her during the wedding.  Not one came to congratulate her in church. 

She ended up teary eyed. 

It was the happiest day of her life, and I am sure, also the saddest. 

I was angry. 

“Would not one take a little risk to do the right thing? I asked myself.  A simple handshake or a touch on the shoulder would have made her very happy.  Or perhaps if one is so afraid of catching this disease by touch, a kind word shared with her would have provided great comfort.”                
 
Alas! They feared the illness more, treating my mum like a leper. 

There was a lot of anger in me.  There was a lot of anger within that I did not know how to dispel. 

I went for my regular walk the other day.  I got to know of  stories that I did not want to repeat.   

A nice gentleman who stays in our neighbourhood was diagnosed with pancreas cancer.  He would need chemotherapy for the next six months.  To add stress to this, he would need to pay exorbitant medical fees for this treatment.

Our opposite neighbour’s brother fell off the roof, shattering his elbow.  He would have only limited use of his right hand for the rest of his life. 

I am not angry anymore. 
 
It is good that the bride and groom were happy and most importantly, healthy during their wedding day.  It is good that my children and I made it to the wedding party.  It is good that my mum made it as well to her son’s wedding party. 

It is good that my children can read and write.  More importantly, I pray that they will take some risks to do the right thing in life.

I am sure they learnt through the shining example of their grandmother who took a little risk taking care of them even when she knew they had this contagious hand-foot-and-mouth illness.  

Cheers!  And a good week ahead.