Some of you will see me around on my good days, or you'll see self portraits and say "You look great and healthy and happy as ever". This is not entirely untrue- for those precious few days I am very, very happy.
I am not acting but you are still seeing a show.
here is my reality:
My life now is hooked to an IV 24 hrs a day, five days a week. My life is nausea, my life is too tired to speak. My life misses the comfort of fingertips along my back, taking my mind off of pain. These days I am not touched without gloves. My life now is a ritual of treatment, my place of worship the hospital. Every Sunday offering up my blood to white-robed oracles and praying my counts will be ok. In Sunday school, long ago, didn't I accept the blood of christ? emanation, martyrdom. I can't help but draw parallels. You get to the point where you can do no more unless it's for others. That's what I'm feeling now- I wouldn't be doing this if it were not for others. If I was alone I'd be content with an untimely end. I'm sacrificing for all of you.
blasphemy.
It's day one. I will hold my breath and come back up for air four days from now.
wish me luck.
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