My Story by Maryam Huda (guest writer)
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| Illustration / Photo-credit: Saniya Kamal |
Every story has a beginning,
middle and an end. This is my story - a story which had a happy, energetic
beginning…a beginning which was to blossom into a vivacious and thriving
middle, but was soon ravaged by a chronic disease. A beginning which soon
plummeted to its precarious end. This is the story of a doctor who knew the
symptoms and complications of a chronic illness in her patients, but in a cruel
twist of fate became the one suffering from that illness. This is the story of
a newlywed 24 year old woman who had to face the questions written on the faces
of people in terror. This is the story of a pregnant mother, who was desperate
to salvage her story for her future son.
It
began while I was a house officer in the medicine ward of a large federal
government tertiary care hospital. I used to work for 36 hours straight, due to
my passion for medicine and my dedicated, devoted personality. The head of my department
lauded me for my work because I was the most efficient house officer. One day I
had a severe headache while in the ward, that soon escalated into vomiting and
small hemorrhages around my eyes. Terrified, I had to visit several physicians, including
a nephrologist and cardiologist, to finally get to a diagnosis: a viral
infection of my kidneys, for which I received treatment and became healthy
again.
Soon
after, I was engaged and married, within a short span of two months. On my overseas
honeymoon, due to a Red Bull overdose at a party I became dehydrated and contracted
a severe urinary tract infection. Within a month of that, while also pregnant, I
was diagnosed with chronic renal failure. This was followed by a series of grueling
tests, investigations and a kidney donor search. But this was nothing compared
to the psychological trauma I underwent. My life had literally just started and
I also had another life, in my womb. My career was my passion and I had wanted
to go for residency in gynaecology. I had just joined a new family whom I had
recently met. I was happy and healthy and had no symptoms except for occasional
swelling around my eyes, which I attributed to eating rice. I had fever with
chills on a few occasions but everyone thought it was malaria – though in
retrospect, it might have been a urinary infection…God knows!
I
still tremble with fear and dread when I think of those harrowing times. After three
years I got a kidney transplant and the donor was my own little brother. I still
shatter into a thousand pieces thinking about the pain my brother went through
for me; had it not been for my son, just over two years at the time of my surgery,
I would never have opted for taking a kidney from my brother. I still remember
the large dialysis needle, the pain, and the sense of detachment to my
surrounding that I had to enforce upon myself to survive those times. I shudder
when I think of the twelve days of isolation without even a glance at my son,
although I could see my other loved ones, albeit through a glass window. I
remember my open wound for three months, which I cleaned myself, while caring
for my child.
I
can also vividly recall the harsh and insensitive words of my friends, foes and
relatives, regardless of my ordeal. But I learned to forget those words and to forgive
the ones who said them.
It’s
been almost seven years now since my kidney transplant, and Allah has blessed me
with another son. Although I still take lots of medicines and my arm is like
cardboard from the endless blood sampling, I can never repay the support and
love of my family during that toughest period of my life. Had it not been for
my husband, I wouldn’t have survived all of this.
At the outset I alluded to an
unhappy ending to my story. However, as I sit here writing out my narrative, I
am aware of how it’s ending is in my control. It’s my choice. In the lines
above, when I acknowledge my spouse, brother and sons as important players in
my story, I realize that I am also celebrating life and love. And thus, this is
how I wish to end my story.
CREDITS:
About the Author: Dr. Maryam Huda is Director of
the Urban Health Program, Department of Community Health Science, AKU. In
addition to an MBBS, she holds a Masters in Health Policy and Management from
AKU.
About the Reviewer / Editor: Dr.
Rija Rehan, AKU MBBS Class of 2015, is a budding psychiatrist.
She's also interested in the performing arts, astronomy, literature,
singing badly and celebrating the many beauties of life.
Illustration / Photo-credit: Saniya
Kamal, AKU MBBS Class of 2018, is curious about life, the
universe, and everything in between. She hopes to become a neurologist, pursue
art, popularize meta-fiction, conquer the world and stay happy.
Editorial Note: This is from a series collected as part of the Narrative Medicine
Workshop at AKU on January 20th, 2016. The editorial work was
performed by The Writers’ Guild, an
interest group at AKU, with the purpose to promote love of reflective reading
and writing, within and outside of AKU.
DISCLAIMER: Copyright belongs to the author. This blog cannot be held
responsible for events bearing overt resemblance to any actual occurrences.
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