Today on my scheduled routine check-up with my PCP, previous and current health conditions were discussed. The stubborn allergic rhinitis, 7/10 headache during that "time of the month" and my scoliosis which needs physical therapy were addressed. As my PCP asked me to "breathe in, breathe out" with her stet, she looked worried and I thought if I have pulmonary problem.
"Are you stressed?' she asked bluntly and I said yeah, the usual daily kind. Then she probed further with follow- up questions and before I knew it, she was already on her way to a lengthy discussion-slash- lecture about anxiety and hold my breath, depression.
Literally I do hold my breath, my friends like Loti and Cleng know this. I hold my breath when I trim my nails, when I take a shower, even writing this entry. Thank goodness for iwatch coz it stubbornly reminds me to "Breathe".
The appointment soon turned out to be a psychological therapy session, I spilled Mamang's demise and how my life and everything about it changed. I was in an offensive guard telling her I am moving on well these days. I guess I did not convince her quite much, stating in a frank yet non-abrasive manner that my bodily symptoms are somehow linked to my grief. My MD's chunks of wisdom:
- You can't act God. You don't want her to die but all humans will die.You will. I will.
- The Christian way says "Pray!" and do it, it helps. The Buddhist on the other hand says there's a river and you have to cross that river. Part of you will be mad at the river, refusing to cross over, fighting with it. That means you get stuck there and you don't move anywhere.
- Healthy grieving naturally dwindles down in six months, honestly I don't see you really moving on a good pace. Stress builds up in all your systems.
- It is not easy, but you ought to do it. Or else, anxiety and depression may develop. Know the difference between sadness and depression. Look out and listen to your body.
Her words were like punch in my gut and iced water poured all over me at the same time. As nobody truly asked me how was I, nor spoke with me about losing Mamang, my PCP served as God's human instrument to tell me what I needed to hear and for me to speak with honesty that I am still hurting. For once, I was in no pretense of strength. I may have no best friend anymore, I think lengthy chat with my Koyas about Mom won't materialize anytime soon. Talking with the physician who is nonjudgmental was so cathartic.
As my doctor was speaking, I felt Mamang's voice in her, reminding me to be brave and take care of myself.Mom was never a weakling, she fought her life battles with head high and red lipstick plus rosary.
I know she wants me to emulate her tenacity and resilience armed with faith in God and myself.
I will do that.
I am in no denial. I won't allow anxiety and depression disorders to be written on my medical record.I acknowledge sadness and great deal of stress though.Besides, it's my oft-stated statement, "I will not be depressed, I don't wanna take Prozac!!"
Courage.Strength.Resilience.
