I was given blood thinning medication to prevent blood clots from forming since I woke up from my operation at SGH. Clexane and Wafarin to be exact.

My underarms and tummy were bruised from the injections while I was inpatient. My tummy is still bruised since I have to administer the injections myself every day after discharge. The way to inject is the same as jabbing myself for stimulation for IVF. Easy for me but the needle is thicker hence more painful.

“Can I not inject anymore?” I asked the haematologist.

She shook her head.

“What happens if I stop the injections?” I asked.

“Both team of doctors tried very hard to revive you because we know you have a baby to go back to. Please don’t waste our efforts,” she replied calmly, “I know it is hard.”

Three visits to the haematologist and my blood is barely any thinner than a normal person’s. I teared when I took my prescription to the pharmacist. I teared while waiting for my top up medication. I teared while picking up my medication.

I’ve been questioned if I’ve had a change in diet. Nope. Not even taking my confinement meals. I’ve also been questioned if I had stopped my medication. Nope. I’ve been taking them diligently. I’ve also been questioned if I am pure Chinese because the doctor has never seen a Chinese needing such a high dosage. Hence, the dosage for Wafarin was increased to 3.5 times since I was discharged.

I can handle swallowing pills but I dread the twice a day injections. Why? Why am I the one going through all the pain?

Every injection serves as a reminder that I am alive, hence I can feel pain. I am lucky to be alive.

Every injection is not just for myself. I have to endure because I am a mum now. I want to live to see my boy grow up.

Pain is temporary they say.

PS: I’ve since made 2 more visits and finally showing improvements.