“I don’t feel well. Can I stay home please?”
“What do you mean you don’t feel well? Exactly where aren’t you well?”
Being sick as a kid wasn’t easy in my household. Approval to stay home from school wasn’t granted to a vague declaration of a stomach ache. It took precise and detailed description of pain, bodily fluids, energy levels and appetite. I literally would have to be half dead with a limb falling off before Mum would give me the all clear to stay home and curl up on the couch with my lime cordial and SAO biscuits.
Mum and I now laugh about her interrogation parenting style. She calls it her tough love approach. At the time, as a kid, I’m not sure about understanding the love bit but I definitely recall the tough part. And all these years later as I reflect on my own approach to health I believe I am carrying on my Mum’s legacy. I believe the tough part of her approach has rubbed off on me and has influenced how I deal with my own illnesses as an adult.
I’ve never been one to go the doctors. Well not a GP, I see other specialists regularly. But I’m not one to race off to my local practice every time I have a head ache or sore throat. I take a bit more of a “I’ll be alright” approach to my health. I now realize that the ‘I’ll just push through’ strategy isn’t a very successful one when it comes to maintaining good health. I now realise that if your body starts to hurt or do strange things it usually means something is wrong or something has changed. It usually means time to go and get checked out by a professional. Someone who knows how the body works more than you and google.
About six weeks ago I finally dragged myself to my local GP and told him my symptoms, in great detail. We ran some tests and in less than 24 hours I was in emergency with my first diagnosis of kidney failure. Tonight I lay in my bed consumed by these same symptoms. They have returned in full force. They have returned and this time I know what they are. I know what they mean. I know I can’t push though. There is no shrugging of the shoulders and “I’ll be alright” this time.
Tomorrow will come. Tomorrow will come and with it a declaration to my doctor.
“I’m not feeling very well.
Do I need to go back to hospital?
Please help me.”