I blame David. Over the years, my friend showered me with epithets such as ‘healthy as a horse’ and the ‘man who never falls sick’ so it was perhaps inevitable that my no-hospital streak was to be broken - and how.
It was in mid-November that I woke up with red and inflamed eyes that my nephew was quick to dub ‘dragon eyes’ on a video call. I had blurred vision and could not read or work on a laptop, nor could I tolerate bright lights or the sun. These were peak COVID times and I hadn’t stepped out of the house in eight months, but after a tele-consultation proved futile, a hospital visit was deemed necessary. I was diagnosed with uveitis and my eye doctor ordered a battery of tests to determine the cause of infection, while starting me on steroid eyedrops to reduce inflammation.
Progress was slow and three weeks later, I woke up with painful and swollen ankles. My C-reactive protein levels were surging, indicating there was something else wrong. I had tested negative for COVID, tuberculosis, rheumatoid arthritis and a host of other auto-immune disorders my doctor kept suggesting during weekly visits. I had developed a persistent dry cough, had lost my appetite and just wanted to lie in bed all day. My ECG and chest x-rays seemed normal. My vitamin D levels were abysmal while my ankle x-rays revealed calcium deficiency – but neither explained my other symptoms. I couldn’t sleep at night, tossing and turning and wincing in pain each time my swollen ankles or knees touched the bed.
Frustrated, I switched to another eye doctor, one who confirmed the uveitis diagnosis and ordered more tests. Things came to a head four days after Christmas when I found myself sprawled on the bathroom floor on the coldest night of the year. My head was sweating profusely, which was what woke me up, and I looked down to see blood on my sweater. I had cut my chin when I hit the wash basin as I passed out. I looked at the clock - it was 4.30 a.m. and I had no idea how long I had been unconscious. I cleaned myself up and woke up mom, giving her quite the scare.
The next day, we consulted a new GP, one with a reputation as a good diagnostician. He went through all my previous tests, ordered a few more, including a CECT scan that revealed enlarged lymph nodes in my lungs. By now, my arms and legs were too thin, walking was difficult and mom pushed me around in a wheelchair during hospital visits.
Things moved swiftly, and I was referred to a chest specialist to conduct a lung biopsy that would rule out the dreaded C-word. “Please don’t cough,” the surgeon said as he inserted a probe down my throat, and of course, my body responded with a coughing fit. Horrible, horrible experience.
I was discharged from hospital on Jan. 8, having finally got a diagnosis - Sarcoidosis. An auto-immune disease that attacks the eyes, lungs, joints and other organs and has no cure, but it is rarely life-threatening and most patients live normal lives with steroids. On the plus side, it’s not cancer. And moreover, I had lost 13 kilos in eight weeks and my BMI had finally ticked into the ‘Ideal’ category from ‘Overweight’. The last time I weighed this little, Barack Obama was not yet president.
“Don’t celebrate the weight loss too soon,” said the chest specialist, warning me to stay off sugar. “The steroids will make it balloon back as your appetite returns.”
Having got my first steroid injection on my last night in hospital, I was able to sleep pain-free for the first time in weeks. A bowel movement (again, thank you steroids) is now the highlight of my day but I’m not complaining. After a satisfactory OPD follow-up, I will have new scans and blood tests in two months to monitor progress.
As for my vision, I am not out of the woods yet. My eye doctor suspects posterior retina damage and I meet a specialist this week. I still can’t read or work on a laptop (I’m typing this in a gigantic font that can be read from the other room). I still spend much of my time in bed, too tired if I walk for a few minutes. But on my last hospital visit, I walked and used the escalator.
My doctor says I am now strong enough to fly down to Hyderabad, where my brother lives. He can give mom some relief as primary caregiver and some time away from New Delhi’s winter chill and pollution would do me good anyway.
I last logged on to work on Nov. 13 and it will be some weeks before I can return. But 2021 has begun on a positive note. And things can only get better. As for you, David, I forgive you.
