The whole point of growing up

As we grow up amidst the many trials and tribulations, I woke up one day to discover that I seem to have lost a part of myself. I don't know when and how but I have let the trials and tribulations define me. I don't mean to say I have become a consequence of these decisions. I mean that the consequences of these decisions I have made, have made me start to check and doubt my natural responses to situations.

I'm not sure how this happened and when I started playing on the side of caution whenever I perceive a risk at hand in an opportunity that comes up. It is never a bad thing for one to be cautious but to me, that intuitive spontaneity has led to many doors being opened for me and I actually enjoyed life, even if a few of the doors opened, weren't very welcoming ones.

It bothers me when I self reflect now and realize that this is how I've been making my decisions. It's created a pang in me, for the person that I no longer am. There are some situations where over-thinking leads to a missed opportunity and that becomes a regret.

And regrets... as we all know... are the worst kinds of memory to have. There is absolutely nothing you can do to change it and all you have, when you look back, is this void and wonder of what it could have been and how the missed opportunity is of your own making. With regrets, there is no one to blame because it is all in your head and as we all know, you can't lie to yourself. It never ever works.

If growing up is so complicated, why do people keep telling us to do it?

Another round of Bloodshed

I was discovered with a little medical condition when I was 25 or 26 and that was when my self confidence took a rather severe beating. I had cysts in my ovaries and this causes a hormonal imbalance. More importantly, PCO sufferers gain weight exponentially and it is hard for them to lose it, even with regular exercise and a stern eye on the diet. I know this personally because I have tried exercising and nutrition watch and it came to nought.

When I was 25 or 26, I had to have an immediate day procedure done as I was bleeding for over 2.5months. The first gynaecologist I went to gave me pills and told me to go back for another consultation in 3 months.

I was getting weaker with each passing day and my spine hurt so bad that I couldn't sneeze without excrutiating pain. I had initially thought I sprained my back or hips but no amount of chiropractor visits helped.

I was then brought to another gynaecologist for a second opinion and when he took one look at me, he said I had to have an immediate surgery as I was losing too much blood and losing colour. It was a simple procedure where I was given general anesthetics and I could go home within an hour of waking up. When I groggily awoke, I noticed that the pain in my spine had miraculously disappeared.

Since then, I still had the infrequent cycles and I discovered a few symptoms of PCO sufferers. For one, I get mood swings that affect me rather badly at times. It messes my mind and if I didn't take a hold of myself and remind self that this is the PCO 'talking' I don't believe I would be sitting here and blogging about this experience. Also, there were times when my blood sugar ran severely low and if I didn't get sugar or food in my system immediately, my body would shiver and shake uncontrollably and eventually I would pass out.

Accordingly to my gynaecologist, most PCO sufferers do not remove the cysts because any scratch on the ovaries would render one barren and I had cysts on both ovaries. The good news is that since it's benign and annual check ups do not indicate cancerous cells, the cysts do not need to be removed. I was also told that unless I tried getting pregnant for at least 1.5years, there is no reason to think that it will be difficult for me to conceive.

Anyways, fast forward from when I was 25 to last year when I was 35. I woke up one day and noticed that the bleeding was unusually heavy. I went to my regular doctor and he gave me a referral to see my gynaecologist immediately. I saw the gynae the following and he said the dreaded words that I was to have another procedure to clear the blood as there was a lot still left in my womb. I had already prepared myself for this and decided that in order to be 'normal' I would go alone and come home alone. I reasoned that there is no point in bringing someone to wait for me for over 3 hours and then bring me home when I was perfectly capable of doing so myself. I think the nurses were surprised that I came alone. When I messaged my best friend who is also my colleague that I was about to go into surgery in 10 mins, she was dead worried and wanted to rush down. I told her not to be silly and it's a simple procedure and I will be home in no time to rest. So that was how that came to be. It did feel lonely in the end, when I saw that everyone came with someone and no one went through this alone. The nurse offered to walk me down to the cab stand but I assured her that there wasn't such a need.

Fast forward to 8 months later... I started bleeding again yesterday and it feels bad again. I couldn't go to work today because the flow is too heavy for me to get clean without a shower each time. I went to the regular doctor again and told him that this time round, I do not want to rush to the gynaecologist and asked if he had pills I could take to stop the bleeding. He gave me 6 days' worth of pills but told me that he insist I go back to the gynaecologist on the 7th day because it is very likely that the bleeding will stop the minute I stop the pills.

I am sitting here in my room, trying to get a handle on my emotions and trying to assure myself that I wouldn't be bleeding that heavily in a couple of days and not to over think things. I keep telling myself that I will be fine and there is no need to worry about going to the gynae and being told that I need yet another surgery. I don't even have to think about whether I should call a friend to go with me this time because there is no surgery to be had.

I will be fine...

I Owe You ... Squat

Lately... I have noticed that I tend to get short tempered with people who expect me to pick up the tab after them or expect me to share a bigger portion of a split bill. I wondered why this bothered me so much because the amounts in question isn't a big amount nor something that would set me back a few months.

I think I am at a point where I've had it with people thinking that since I am single, I therefore do not have a 'family' nor the burdens such a nucleus entails. They see me with a branded handbag and therefore assume that I bought this item on a lark with spare cash I have lying around the house.

I have also observed that when people ask if you have had an increment or so for the new Financial Year, that it is an obligation that one has to treat the enquirer to a meal. How odd. $1 is still considered an increment and if that were so, how would it justify treating friends to a simple meal of say $5? I'm sure people must have realised by now that, I do not have only ONE friend... surprising as that may sound. If every friend expects this... wouldn't I develop a phobia of such 'friends', enough to be a recluse sooner or later?

I wonder when people started being so myopic. While it is true that I am not married nor have kids, which means I am not paying installments for a house or car or even a newborn, there are also burdens that an adult with retired parents and a dog to boot, has to carry. Besides, what I do with my cash or whom I offer a treat to has to be my prerogative since I actually slogged to earn that cash.

It is strange that people start to judge you based on the terms of their current status quo, a life I might add, that was shaped by their own doing.

Kill Count: 9 as of 1 April 2010

I was fussing with my new batch of seedlings and I realised that the roots for the cotton plant had already shot out from the jiffy starter. I was wondering what to do when a brilliant idea hit me. I could just add another jiffy pellet beneath and pray that the roots would penetrate into the new pellet.

So I started to get the new pellet ready.
I grabbed the seedling and was walking to the sink to commence the 'union' of two pellets, when the seedling pellet slipped from my fingers. In my haste to grab onto it, I snapped the plant in half. There was an audible crunch when the stem broke, not unlike the sound of crunching fresh lettuce stems. Sigh.... there goes Cotton No. 2.

Cotton No. 1 is still surviving but not by much. In frustration, I took the pot to the basin and added water viciously and peeked below the pot to see if water was leaking through. That was when I realised the root of Cotton 1 was peeking out of the hole at the base of my pot!

Cotton roots seem to be pretty strong because there was a piece of newspaper covering that hole. Sure, the tensil strength of that piece of newspaper might have already been weakened due to gradual watering but still... for the seedling root to punch through... impressive.

I think I shd be spending tomorrow transplanting Cotton No. 1 to my new pot with garden soil instead of anymore starters and trying to clear out the stuf I need to bring for sale on Saturday.

No rest for the wicked.