The free will ( eng)

22. The Beginning to the end...

During the following weeks I'm starting to feel strange. I suffer from headache, nausia and a stomach pain, mostly during the nights, that I normally don' have. Of course my insomnia comes back. More and more sleepless nights end up on the horizon along with me getting desperate and joggling between pills an wine to get a few hours I HAVE TO HAVE to make it through the day. I can't exercise and I can't dance without sleep. My shop is rented constantly and it's like running a hotel... all I do is clean, change sheets, laundry, take care of Calle and work. I'm constantly tired. This is how it's been most of my life and I've had it. I need to be able to sleep and not be sick if I shall have the strength to continue.

Calle is also getting worse and I have to see the vet again to see what is wrong. Probably Lyme and borrelia . He has a lot of fluids in his body and barely has the energy to ride the bus twice a day to the shop. He is fourteen and I wonder how long he has left? Finally I make the decision to let him sleep forever. It's a very hard decision and I'm totally destroyed afterwards.

I visit the health care center to get a scan for my shoulder and maybe some other test or blood work. I don't like them or hospitals and have very bad experience from doctors. When I enter the doctor's room and sit down in front of her and she scans me with her eyes, I feel exactly like when my mother used to accuse me of lying and wanted to know the truth although I said it. If I'm lucky the doctor will believe me, if I'm unlucky I will get raised eyebrows and contempt for not " putting up with a little ailments" , as a doctor actually said to me literally when my thyroid had died completely and was literally off the charts in the blood test another doctor working for enterprises ordered. Coma would have been next stop.

- What can I do for you the hired substitute doctor asks without compassion and with expressionless face. She is probably already wondering if I'm one of those women complaining about everything, not really sick at all and is just taking her valuable time from the "truly sick" , and also right now judging if I'm mentally ill also'? What kind of clothes do I wear? Do I respond well and show emotions? How much alcohol do I drink a week? Etc. That are the kind of questions they are forced to write in my medical journal and report back to the government.

- I think the thing that holds my muscles in place in my shoulder is damaged? I can't use it without pain although it's been two years now and I have tried everything, I would like to have a proper MRI.

- No, I don't think so. It's probably just an inflammation. I'll give you medicine for that, she says and I stare at her thinking like crazy. How am I going to convince her? How could she SEE that it was okay?

- I don't think it's an inflammation. And I don't need any pills for pain or anything else. It's not the pain that bothers me, I say and try to find a tone of voice that is both humble and confident.

- I will prescribe Paraflex. You should take three pills a day for a month, she says after scrutinizing me thoroughly, as to make a last judgment.

- How are pills going to be able to heal a broken attachment?

- They will, she says firmly.

- I don't think so. My kidneys and liver wont like it either. They are already showing signs of not functioning well from all the sleeping pills.

- These pills are not so dangerous. You also need to see a therapist for your shoulder. It's funded by the government but you need to contact one your self, she says. I sigh and leave the room, very skeptic to this will work. When I get back to my shop I call Sebastian I know very well from my "Salsa- family". He is glad to hear from me and gladly make an appointment the next week.