Another week and three yoga classes past, my health is still not entirely good. Last Thursday I noticed that my vision had something wrong and went to see my GP, who sent me to the hospital, where they sent me to another hospital which was open until late, where a doctor finally checked my eyes and found an inflammation of the cornea with a long latin name, which may or may not affect my vision for months and may or may not leave scars on the cornea. So, after that very long sentence I’m left with some eye drops and quite scared.

The eye drops are working, my vision has indeed improved.
The fear is still there. I’m scared of doctors and hospitals… It’s that moment when they tell you that something is wrong that I dread. And being alone when that happens.

It did happen at the fertility clinic, two years ago (“With this value of the AMH, if you want to have a chance of having a baby you should go for IVF as soon as possible” “Sorry, what value?”) and it paralised me for months. Now the situation doesn’t seem to be that serious, but again I was alone (L was home with the baby, so I had to go to the hospital by myself).

The last pages of Love at the time of cholera came to my mind. When they eventually get together, and they are old. Their bodies are wrinkled, their health is not good anymore. Still they don’t care, they are the same people who fell in love with each other when they were young. And here I am, panicking every time I have to book an appointment with a doctor.

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