Until one day, my non-stop diarrhea landed me on a real doctor. She was my fifth hope at finding out if something was indeed wrong, and I was somewhat, right. The first four though, managed to tell me what they thought I wanted to hear.
"Ohhh...semua tu biasa tu, tak de ape-ape."
The real doctor told me that I was bugged by this little thingy called thyroid. Trivial. I was sure I'd heard it before. But as if I was immortal, she told me it isn't fatal. Ah well... . She then referred me to a hospital and the hospital referred me to drugs.
Describing my condition, I wish they had used the term flying colors more often but they kept overusing sky high instead. But then again, what did I expect? I had hyperthyroid, not a spelling bee.
I can't pretend that I wasn't enjoying the constant weight loss and the freedom to devour everything in sight that may look edible, but.
When after two years they told me that the drugs were not doing me any good, I felt...sick.
They told me that I had to go to the next level. Since it had been two years and nothing did change, my heart could simply get tired from the palpitations...and stop beating.
I felt like for awhile, it already did.