By the time I was 17 years old, I was pretty much used to painful and dramatic periods. I had somewhat accepted it as my lot. What else could I do? In those days I seldom heard of anyone going to hospital for painful periods. We resulted to be being amateur pharmacists. In retrospect that was SHEER. FOLLY!
All was well-ish until the day pain paralyzed me in the heart of Nairobi city while on Moi Avenue near a stall selling jewelry. That was scary. My body was overcome by such a sharp pain on the left side of my abdomen. I couldn’t walk and could hardly breathe. I felt hot, a warmth covered my body. I was scared yet I had to put on my brave face on, because the city center is not a place to show your fear when you can’t move.
I inched towards the jewelry stall and sat. God bless the woman who helped me with a seat. She tried to ask me what was going on but I was as clueless as she was. My abdomen was hot and I was balancing tears. Minutes felt like hours as I waited for the wave to pass. When it finally did, I got a matatu and went to school. By this time I was already late for my class. I walked as fast as I could to the school clinic and met the ever patient Dr. Jack. He believed me, he didn’t look at me like I was crazy.
He gave me a place to rest and then treated me for a bad Urinary Tract Infection. After a course of antibiotics, painkillers and urine alkalizer, the pain subsided; only for a few days.
Till next time,