DIAGNOSIS GONE SOUR

Waking up to the wailing of ambulance sirens driving into the emergency department of Chicago Medical, Ani quickly sat up, looking around and remembering the events that had led to her bestie Trisha being here, surrounded by everything hospital blue, linens included and hooked to a ventilating machine. It had been years since she last saw the four walls of a hospital save last month when Grandma Madeline was about to board her flight to the golden city and every family member around had to come in and pay their respects and the fact that she wasn’t compelled to hang around for long didn’t quell her uneasiness then and definitely didn’t do any justice to it now.
Having just returned from a weekend in Barbados, Trisha’s “mitochondrial crisis” as she called it became more frequent as she had greater difficulty breathing on some days and on others, mild fatigue. About a year back when the complaints began Trish quickly came to a diagnosis of mitochondrial disease without a visit to doctor Ray, her physician. As time went on however, it looked like she really had mitochondrial disease until one cold winter night when it got so bad that someone had to dial 911.
Sitting beside her now having just returned from the doctor’s office where I had learnt that what she had been suffering from was a case of mild inflammation of the lining around her lungs; something a few antibiotics and some drugs would have cured, I kept on wondering why a learned lady like Trish didn’t have the brains to do the right thing and go see Dr Ray when this all started and at the time deciding that even at the slightest glimpse of a rash, I wasn’t going to waste any precious time. With nothing to do but hope and wait some more, I snuggled deeper into the couch with the hopes of taking a nap and silently praying for a miracle by the time I awoke.

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