“My brain felt like a lump of tangled threads that wouldn’t untangle no matter how hard I tried.”
Humans of Medicine #31
This publication is in conjunction with MMI’s Healing the Healer Campaign. Information regarding the project can be found at @mmi_social on Instagram and on our website.
I was thousands of kilometres away from home when I started experiencing knee pain. I struggled to continue with my routine; gone were the days when I could cycle 10 kilometres to university. I now had to push my bicycle uphill because my knees would otherwise scream in pain. I used to play rugby with my friends quite often but now even the thought of running caused pain in my knees.
Within 6 weeks, my knee pain became so debilitating that I had to seek help from the university health clinic. All this while, I chose to delay seeing a doctor because I was worried about the cost that would be incurred for treatment but the pain forced me to put my concerns aside. I was then referred to a specialist who diagnosed me with an autoimmune condition for which I would be on a life-long treatment.
It wasn’t easy to come to terms with my medical condition as I realised it would have a long-term impact on my studies. No one in my family had it, so this diagnosis came out of nowhere. Perhaps, to a pre-clinical medical student it made some sense, but what about my parents? They are not in the medical field and trying to fathom this was out of question. For those who were unaware, they thought it was some random pain in the leg that gets better with painkillers or rest. When I was writhing in pain and unable to do my daily tasks such as cooking and laundry, it was thought of as an exaggeration. Thankfully, my parents supported me in seeking the right treatment even when I was back home.
I had always been a top scorer in school, and scored good results in university as well. This autoimmune condition, despite medications, made me fall behind in studies because there were days the pain was unbearable and I couldn’t seem to focus on anything but the pain. On other days, I drowned myself in the guilt of not studying enough, therefore no longer being the best student I have aspired to be. The stress didn’t motivate me, instead it made me feel very low. Before I knew it, it became a vicious cycle; doing less work on my bad days leading to me feeling guilty, then feeling low, then falling behind even more. The pain had an even bigger impact on my mental health which affected my exam results. My university offered me counselling but the damage was done; I failed my final exam.
I had to retake the year, but my counsellor suggested I take a gap year. As hard as it was for me to accept the fact that I would be 2 years behind my batchmates, it was even harder for me to convince my parents about taking a gap year - a concept foreign to Malaysian parents. I was fortunate enough that my tutor decided to convince my parents and they agreed.
The gap year helped me in the remission of my condition since I was well taken care of back home and had no stress of finals looming over me. Although I was anxious to make friends all over again with a new batch of classmates, I was happy to resume my studies. Nonetheless, I struggled to focus because thoughts of failing kept haunting me. I was a top scorer in school and did quite well in my first year, so to fall behind was a hard pill to digest. Having failed once, the fear of my condition worsening nearer to exams and impacting my results kept manifesting as recurrent nightmares. My brain felt like a lump of tangled threads that wouldn’t untangle no matter how hard I tried. I decided to approach my counsellor for my anxiety, which encouraged me to pour my heart out and rationalise my thoughts. That helped me improve and I passed my exams that year. I thought the worst was over, only to realise the fear of failing my exams would haunt me for the rest of my life.
I wanted to get these ruminating thoughts out of my mind, so I decided to call the university health clinic again, this time directly informing them about my diagnosis and requesting for escitalopram for my anxiety. They were aware I knew very well what I was talking about and arranged an appointment for me. At the end of the consultation, I was prescribed escitalopram.
Now, 6 months on, I feel my mind is calm. I no longer have episodes of nausea and recurrent nightmares when I am studying or thinking about the exams. I still suffer from anxiety and am nowhere near the end of the dark tunnel, but I see light and I know by attending counselling and taking these medications alongside good support from my loved ones, I am on the journey to healing.
My chronic illness will not heal, and I have come to terms with it. I have learnt to accept that I may not be able to play rugby or cycle long distances anymore. Most importantly, I am grateful to myself for realising when I needed help and chose my physical and mental well-being over the fear of what others will think.
About the author
Interviewed and written by Repe Charanjit Singh. Repe Sidhu is a 3rd year medical student in Barts and the London School of Medicine and Dentistry. She loves reading books and travelling.
Consent has been obtained from the interviewee for the purpose of this publication. The author has rewritten the article with permission from the interviewee.
Humans of Medicine is a new initiative under MMI. We tell inspiring stories behind portrait shots of our everyday unsung heroes. Curated by Malaysian medical students from home and abroad.
If you have a story you would like to share, please reach out to us at admin@malaysianmedics.org.
