Since I’ve got the diagnosis and started the treatments my appearance has changed drastically… When I pass the mirror, I can not recognize myself, to tell you the truth, and when I finally do – I get upset. I do not look like any of my pictures, and I do not think that authorities will recognize me on the documents if needed.
In the very beginning, before my first visit to the doctor, (Oh, so long time ago!) I lost a kilo or a bit more and were very satisfied! I liked how I look. But then, with the treatments or something, my face started to look a little bit swollen. After a few months, swollenness became so ugly, that I looked like I was drinking badly for months and months, and you have just woken me up.
Did you get the picture?
Even when I got back to Hospital K after being at home for some time, some nurses asked me – “You didn’t look like this before, right, not that swollen??”
No, I did not.
A bit later, when, the liquids (I assume) redistributed themselves, my face started to look a little bit more normal, less sick swollen, and more just fat, I think. So now I’ve got two huge chicks, second chin and everything that supposed to come with this in between. While the forehead started to look small and lips are just almost non-existent.
To give me my tablets, to control that everything is in time, to check on availability of medications at home, injections, solutions, drops, somehow became my husband’s duties by default. And he zealously takes care of these Pill Duties and me.
When we first time came from the hospital with the new diagnosis and basically the new life ahead of us, we created a small daily routine with blood pressure and temperature tests and pills that he was giving me according to the list. And this routine continued for quite a bit.
Much later, with two more hospital visits, where the nurses do this, and we got all good blood pressure results we stopped taking measurements at home on a regular basis, but the Pill Duty stayed on my husband, even though with the number of pills increased enormously and different timings became crazy. Continue reading
So, I received my diagnosis, it’s hard to process emotions like this.
For some time, I think I felt nothing. I was just talking, functioning and not feeling anything. I was like frozen. Because I was afraid, that if I let go, the feelings would be too much, what if the urge to cry will be too strong. I didn’t want to freak out. But I think that having a plan helped, the thing is that I immediately got a promising treatment – gave me hope, strength and ability to rationalize what was happening and the diagnosis I got. I did process my fear too in the end step by step. And I cried too. But much later.
My tough adventure continued.
After I finally came to the Hospital K (you can find in Part IV), and the nice nurse made it happened that I saw my husband that late at night, he brought me some stuff from home, even though I received everything possible from the hospital at the moment. We talked for some time, I brought him up to speed as much as I could, we separated till morning.
My state was still of absolute shock and lack of understanding of what was going on with me. I was in a hospital gown with lots of cords coming out of me, three of them at least connected to some bags, not in a way you’d think they would, they appeared to be to the cuts under the lungs and the heart sack for collecting the rest of the liquids, and some to this beeping machine, I saw in the movies before %). Meanwhile, nurses brought me some broth and tea, and a small sandwich and tried to persuade me to have at least some.
Later, when I ate some broth, seeing that I was still in the complete state of loss, nurses tenderly but firmly helped me to get to sleep, and repeated many and many times (and were right to do so) to call them. Call them if I need to stand up or to go to the toilet or if I’m thirsty, or need anything at all. Because it worked and even in my groggy painful state during my sleep that night, I remembered asking them for help.
In the morning I had a chance to finally look around and see, where I was. The room was quite spacious with my medical bed and a type of “medical” table beside it. There was a nice area with the light azure armchair with footrest and an extra chair. And there was some cabinet, which appeared to be the extra bed later. The windows were huge, almost wall-size, and the ceiling was quite high too. There was a door, which I knew was a bathroom after the last night. Everything looked perfect and clean and shiny.
It was past November 2018, the 9th. I felt completely shuttered and sad over the Food and Wine Conference, which were held again here in Stockholm. First of all, I wanted to go. The second, I wanted to go as a Food photographer, and it also would mean to give out cards, show my beautiful works and talk about my studio, and I would have been professional and confident, and land some new clients there.
All of these I had been planning previously a year before (2017). I had been planning that on the same Conference when I had just started the process to register myself as an entrepreneur and came just to check it out, being too shy to present myself to anybody at all %) Even though, I believe, I already had had quite nice examples of work 😉
And at that time, I didn’t even have any strength to go, and I hadn’t had enough power to pick up the camera for months and months at that point…
And just now I see, at least, I was at home, though already sick, but yet not in the hospital bed, lacking a couple of scars, that I acquired after. And who knows, maybe it all came to be as it supposed to be.
But One November, anyway, I’ll do it. I’ll come to the conference as a Food photographer. And I will be even better in what I do and how I feel and present myself to my future customers!