So when your hope is on fire.

"Nour, remember my voice. When I call your name, wake up."

She gave me a reassuring smile, probably seeing the panicked "what if I can't hear you" look on my face. "Don't worry, it'll be okay."

"Okay, Nour lie on your left side please.", the doctor said.

I turned on my side. Fighting the urge to piss myself.

"Now bite down on this."

The nurse stuffed a plastic mouthpiece inside my mouth, and pressed her hand against my chin forcing me to bite down on it. I suddenly forgot how to breathe through my nose.

The anaesthetist said again, "Don't worry, it'll be okay." Her hands was firm on my head, keeping it still.

As she said those words, tiny cold pin pricks went up my arm. I managed a small moan before complete darkness took over me. I barely could even count to 1 1/2.

The next thing I was aware of was being jolted back into conciousness by the doctor's voice, talking somewhere very, very far. You know those old box set television, when you turn it on, it takes a couple of seconds before the picture comes on, followed by the sound. That's exactly how it was.

First I heard his voice. Then I felt my arms. Then my chest. Everything was 10 times their original weight. Then the pillow under my head. But God help me I could not open my eyes. My brain was still in the process of switching on its buttons. So sluggish, so slow, so weirdly un-fazed and un-alarmed. 

When it all finally clicked, the first thing that came out of my mouth, eyes still closed, was (according to a witness) "Mmhat mftthhapper?"

_________________

They didn't find anything too fucked up, thank God. Just some minor inflammation. Plus the biopsy for H. pylori was negative. This means no unnecessary hospital stay. But more importantly, this means my mother's unquenchable persistent worries are at least slowed down a little bit.

The stress that comes from the fear of getting another attack is starting to piss me off. Started to watch what I'm eating. Sometimes, (carpe diem!) I just eat whatever I get, disregarding the possibility of triggering an attack. Regretting the choice once I'm bent over my own ass with pain.

Sigh. During these trying times, the small things like stopping a good looking guy in his tracks with just a smile, or finally getting baking soda so I can finally bake my chocolate banana bread, or mastering a new song on the ukulele; these small happiness gets me through the day.



Now, I can peacefully freak out about getting through Ramadhan in Spain.