Saturday 6 December 2014
Monday 8 September 2014
Monday 7 April 2014
Monday 31 March 2014
Alone
Pale as a ghost, in cold sweats, shivering, kicking the bathroom floor from the pain....I passed out.
Amidst the excitement of generating new data for the manuscript I'm preparing, I decided to work this weekend (something that I'm no stranger to). Started day one of my four Western blots on Saturday and naturally came back on Sunday to develop the blots. You can imagine labs on a Sunday, there's not a whole lot going on really. Occasionally, a person would come in to change media for their cells and leave.
I started to feel cramps in my pelvis but thought that it was normal. The intensity of the pain went from "Well, that's uncomfortable" to "HOLY @^%$, MAKE IT STOP, I'M DYING". In the women's washroom, for the fourth time in 15 minutes, I felt that my uterus was going to fall off. Horrible contractions, excruciating pain...I could hardly breathe. I started clapping to count and regulate my breathing, and to distract myself from the pain...didn't work. I started punching the stall's walls and squirming...my legs were weak and my mouth was dry. I was sobbing uncontrollably.
Luckily, someone came into the bathroom and I yelled "EXCUSE ME, DO YOU HAVE ANY PAINKILLERS??" It turned out to be a coworker from the lab next to mine... I told her that I was in pain and I was lucky enough that her helping hands passed me a small bottle of Tylenol from underneath the stall. She also told me that I could call her if I needed help, which I thought was very kind.
The problem lied in that I couldn't move...I couldn't carry myself out of the stall to even take the pills. After several attempts to distract myself from the stabbing in my pelvis, I left the stall and struggled to open the Tylenol bottle, took 2 and managed to get a drink of bathroom tap water to push them down. I left to go to my desk in the office next to the bathroom. I couldn't sit down so I lay down on the floor and started rolling and kicking...there was no position that was comfortable, just stabbing pain and legs going more numb, shivering and sweating. I had to pull myself up and go back to the bathroom. I could not stay in the office by myself...I needed help...and did I mention that I didn't have a phone on me?
I went back to the stall, started wailing again. At this point, there was nothing I could do. The contractions were getting worse and no merciful breaks were allowed in between. I pulled myself up and went to the sink...my legs couldn't carry me anymore. I don't know how long I had been there on the floow, but when I started regaining consciousness, I found myself in the arms of my tiny Chinese friend whom I'm twice the size and thrice the weight. She was cradling me and almost crying herself. She ran and got me warm water, helped me drink, held and comforted me. I started sobbing. You see my friends, I've never felt more alone and helpless before and my occasional fear of something bad happening while I was completely alone with nobody to ask for help or care materialized that day. I felt very sorry for myself.
My Chinese friend helped me up and somehow half-carried me to the office again. She stayed with me till this whole nightmare was over, I regained feeling in my legs and colour in my face.The contractions subsided and she made sure I got home safely.
Being a transplanted citizen comes with its challenges and heightened feelings of estrangement and loneliness. I'm reminded by this feeling every time I need to fill a form and it stares at me and asks "Emergency contact?". Oh, the agony.
You see, a story like this I cannot tell my family who live on the other side of the pond about. They'll just get worried out of their mind and will not be able to do anything to help anyway. It's sort of like this incident being entrapped inside your body. It's not a story you can talk about with friends casually, it will make everybody uncomfortable. I just have to do what I do everyday, put on my happy face and everything-is-gonna-be-OK attitude as if nothing happened. Knowing that mom doesn't read my blog, I decided to share this with you, maybe somebody will find this of use.
My loneliness can be discussed some other time, but the lessons I've learned from this ordeal are:
1- I'm never working in the lab alone again.
2- I was very lucky to run into 2 guardian angels, without whom who knows what could have happened to me. That I will not forget and will remain grateful for.
3- I have to surround myself with people as much as I can, so that when something like this happens, somebody can call an ambulance. If it happens at night, so be it, what can I do?!
4- Maybe, have a functioning phone at hand at all times despite my deep hatred towards the invasiveness of mobile phones?
Don't work in the lab by yourself!
Amidst the excitement of generating new data for the manuscript I'm preparing, I decided to work this weekend (something that I'm no stranger to). Started day one of my four Western blots on Saturday and naturally came back on Sunday to develop the blots. You can imagine labs on a Sunday, there's not a whole lot going on really. Occasionally, a person would come in to change media for their cells and leave.
I started to feel cramps in my pelvis but thought that it was normal. The intensity of the pain went from "Well, that's uncomfortable" to "HOLY @^%$, MAKE IT STOP, I'M DYING". In the women's washroom, for the fourth time in 15 minutes, I felt that my uterus was going to fall off. Horrible contractions, excruciating pain...I could hardly breathe. I started clapping to count and regulate my breathing, and to distract myself from the pain...didn't work. I started punching the stall's walls and squirming...my legs were weak and my mouth was dry. I was sobbing uncontrollably.
Luckily, someone came into the bathroom and I yelled "EXCUSE ME, DO YOU HAVE ANY PAINKILLERS??" It turned out to be a coworker from the lab next to mine... I told her that I was in pain and I was lucky enough that her helping hands passed me a small bottle of Tylenol from underneath the stall. She also told me that I could call her if I needed help, which I thought was very kind.
The problem lied in that I couldn't move...I couldn't carry myself out of the stall to even take the pills. After several attempts to distract myself from the stabbing in my pelvis, I left the stall and struggled to open the Tylenol bottle, took 2 and managed to get a drink of bathroom tap water to push them down. I left to go to my desk in the office next to the bathroom. I couldn't sit down so I lay down on the floor and started rolling and kicking...there was no position that was comfortable, just stabbing pain and legs going more numb, shivering and sweating. I had to pull myself up and go back to the bathroom. I could not stay in the office by myself...I needed help...and did I mention that I didn't have a phone on me?
I went back to the stall, started wailing again. At this point, there was nothing I could do. The contractions were getting worse and no merciful breaks were allowed in between. I pulled myself up and went to the sink...my legs couldn't carry me anymore. I don't know how long I had been there on the floow, but when I started regaining consciousness, I found myself in the arms of my tiny Chinese friend whom I'm twice the size and thrice the weight. She was cradling me and almost crying herself. She ran and got me warm water, helped me drink, held and comforted me. I started sobbing. You see my friends, I've never felt more alone and helpless before and my occasional fear of something bad happening while I was completely alone with nobody to ask for help or care materialized that day. I felt very sorry for myself.
My Chinese friend helped me up and somehow half-carried me to the office again. She stayed with me till this whole nightmare was over, I regained feeling in my legs and colour in my face.The contractions subsided and she made sure I got home safely.
Being a transplanted citizen comes with its challenges and heightened feelings of estrangement and loneliness. I'm reminded by this feeling every time I need to fill a form and it stares at me and asks "Emergency contact?". Oh, the agony.
You see, a story like this I cannot tell my family who live on the other side of the pond about. They'll just get worried out of their mind and will not be able to do anything to help anyway. It's sort of like this incident being entrapped inside your body. It's not a story you can talk about with friends casually, it will make everybody uncomfortable. I just have to do what I do everyday, put on my happy face and everything-is-gonna-be-OK attitude as if nothing happened. Knowing that mom doesn't read my blog, I decided to share this with you, maybe somebody will find this of use.
My loneliness can be discussed some other time, but the lessons I've learned from this ordeal are:
1- I'm never working in the lab alone again.
2- I was very lucky to run into 2 guardian angels, without whom who knows what could have happened to me. That I will not forget and will remain grateful for.
3- I have to surround myself with people as much as I can, so that when something like this happens, somebody can call an ambulance. If it happens at night, so be it, what can I do?!
4- Maybe, have a functioning phone at hand at all times despite my deep hatred towards the invasiveness of mobile phones?
Don't work in the lab by yourself!
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