Helicobacter pylori: An Introduction To My Experience
When he is raging, when being completely unpredictable or foreseen, my most primitive thought is to take a sharp and pointed knife, no, a dagger, a hyperbolic Shakespearean dagger in the Black Adder sense and thrust it deep into my upper gut, hoping for a pressure release similar to popping a balloon. Day in and day out his intrusive and bilious life occupies and devours the same spot (like Henry VIII demanding a designated throne to eat and shit on). Roughly the size of a half dollar piece, dead-centered-body, six inches above my navel, —-an uninvited guest, a party crasher, a menacing squatter for over five years now. Living deeply embedded and thriving in a normally hostile environment, an environment that he has managed to manipulate and alter to his benefit, he inflicts uncontrollable malevolent oppression with his barbarous torture. Once my dagger pierces his nucleus, I will eradicate his entire colonising sprawl by abrading all his webbing-extenders with the determined fierceness necessary to scale a Polypterus senegalus. When he is fully extracted, including all of his gluttonousness tentacles and fornicating and fecund cells, I will gleefully cheer as he plops to the floor in a pool of my sacrificial blood. I will then stomp his remaining cells into the crevices, afterwards, mopping his battered remnants away with a bleach and ammonia compound.
In other words, I want to fuck that little demon bastard up.
One thing about growing up poor, being around poverty most of my life and watching people struggle with aching backs, stiff joints, headaches, perpetual coughs, undiagnosed and untreated depression, addictions, forced to work with cold and flu, etc, one tends to rationalise and dismiss one’s own physical pain. Poverty does not allocate time to trifle over pain.
Often it is not uncommon for family members to minimise a love one’s cries of pain as an attempt for sympathy or a reason to take the lion’s share of compassion. Of course this is just the poverty talking, because there is no lion’s share, no utopia of kindness and consideration available that will erase or ease a pain forever, there are just turns, whose turn it is to feel the most broken down that day. If one person monopolises the sympathy, or it is perceived that said person is monopolising, then others may become insensitive to the point of resentment, so much so, that compassion is withheld and/or used as a tool. Alternatively, one becomes so accustomed to the daily complaints that the compassion is understood to be there if not routinely expressed.
Because of the possibility of igniting a squabble over a chronic complaint or suffer accusations that stem from such a complaint (not a physical complaint in comparison to people who live outside of poverty and are not subjected to daily physical pain (not saying more-privileged people are never with pain), but complaining in a sense that it makes others who are also in daily pain feel like his or her pain is being cheated, overshadowed, silenced and dismissed ), one attempts to quiet their own complaint of pain. There is a perception among some that the loudest complainer is gaining something or getting away with something when he or she frequently reminds everyone of his or her pain. Perhaps knowing that a hierarchy is easily constructed, (one could possibly win a top position of deserving more sympathy than the rest), one tends to live with that pain and eventually no longer realise she or he is actually experiencing pain or at least no longer consciously acknowledging the reality of the pain’s intensity. All scraps are fought over even the intangible scraps. The its all in your head, what do you have to complain about look at me, and there are more people in far worse shape than you, are all internalised.
In addition to it being internalised, which can already debilitate, external forces (more-privileged people) often use the narrative of the underprivileged’s chronic complaining and rewrite it by overusing and mislabeling it as hypochondria, laziness, an excuse not to work, contribute, or even to lose weight. This mislabeling aids in the privileged sect’s (the power brokers) rationalising, which leads to their justification to ignore, thus invalidate the reality of an underprivileged’s pain. Hence, creating an excuse not to care, not to change the status quo, and not fight for or make humane resources available for everyone.