February is here, so is my annual physical – part two

By PETER GAITHO
Published February 14, 2010

“Your results are out, and I will be quick,” my doctor said, when I went to get the results one week after the ordeal in his office. I read his face to see if I was in for a death sentence. I remember my communication professor saying that 60 percent of communication is nonverbal. Well, he had never met my doctor. His facial and body language, betrayed zero emotions. Yet in his hands was, what could be the turning point of my life.

The few nanoseconds it took him to flip that folder, appeared to be decades to me. “First, I have good, and bad news,” he started. Several things happened in my system simultaneously. My mouth instantly dried, my heart fluttered, and a thin, cold sweat dripped from my armpits; my hands slippery and my hair up in trepidation.

“First the bad news. Your LDL or bad cholesterol is 215, the maximum should be 200,” he said. “What should I do to bring it down?” I asked in a quivering voice.

“Avoid red meat, increase nuts, vegetables and fruits in your diet; do more exercises, and you will be all set. I need to see you in six months for a recap,” he spoke with the finality of a Supreme Court judge.

“Next, your TB test is indeterminate, and since you do not have immunization records; I will send you to the hospital for a chest X-ray.” I hate to wait another day for more results.

“You are also required to receive tetanus and hepatitis jabs, the nurse will arrange for that,” he continued. “Ngai baba! Did he just say injections- in plural?” Give me the bitterest herbs, but do not show me the syringe. I have nostalgic memories with those things. I was there, when they boiled injections on a stove at the Lanet Health Centre.

“Now the good news,” he said. Finally, my kumbaya moment has arrived. “You are basically in good health; nothing was seen hiding in your blood, your heart is in good condition, your blood pressure is okay, so are your lungs,” he said. But I could not see a tinge of emotion in his voice, or body. By that time I was in seventh heaven.

“But you are not out of the woods yet,” he continued. There we go again. “I can see you are young, and have a family; if you love them do not touch alcohol, and cigarettes, they kill a third of their consumers. One more thing, 65 million people worldwide have contacted HIV/AIDS since 1985; do not add the number,” the good doctor continued. “HIV/AIDS is also in America, so is herpes and a whole lot of other STDs. Keep your zip up.”

“I will certainly remember.” I felt 17 again when my father gave me the same lecture.

“Let’s see what your chest X-ray reveals. Take care,” he concluded.

The X-ray results were out within a week, and no TB was found in my chest. But the doctor had bad news to relay. Apparently, TB can be latent in the system, waiting for an opportune moment to explode, “like if your immunity is compromised by too much stress, immuno-suppressants and old age,” the doctor said.

“God keep me away from the first two, at least old age is inevitable,” was all I could think of.

And so it has come to pass, visiting the hospital, or my doctor’s office is a matter of routine. Meanwhile, I read somewhere that I am what I eat, so do not be surprised when I develop this craving for traditional African dishes. Githeri and Kienyeji, are once again my staple food, while uji wa mtama and ngwaci are, my breakfast menu. I have scouted all over Boston and identified shops that sell what I need.

Kumbe our African traditional dishes were so healthy? I thought eating more meat was a sign of upward mobility. Where I come from, a bottle of Coke or Fanta, was reserved for the high table. Now I know that in the 300 ml bottle, is a little poison killing stealthily.

God knows how I loved sausages and eggs, and make my chai as sweet as possible. “Sijaona nyuki akienda hospitali (I have never seen a bee going to the hospital) was my mantra.” Now I know what sugar was causing to my system. Apparently, according to Isaac Asimov, the first law of dietetics is; if it tastes good, then it is bad for you.

Hara hachi bu is Japanese for ‘eat until 80 percent full.’ This is an important lesson, especially because I believed in eating all that was laid on the table. Even though my appetite is tip top, I now do not need to eat, until I belch to create more room.

Listen to Samuel Smiles when he says, “We each day dig our grave with our teeth.” Make an appointment with your doctor for a physical exam. I did, and am so grateful.

PS. remind me later to tell you about my visits to the dentist. It will be a good read.

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