I’ve never let the pain get in my way. Or the wheels. (Sometimes I feel like a spider, a girl with 2 arms, 2 legs, and 4 wheels equals 8 limbs. Have you seen Monsters Inc? I ‘roll’ by my self like freakin’ Mr. Waternoose.) I do amazing things, and they’re almost bright enough to hide the pain of living, even from me.
Archive of ‘pills’ category
2013 Rhapsody, in A Major
Year of the spirochete, infernal.
Mortal heart of a child, eternal.
Girl + Infection = Outcome Unexpected
Girl + Infection = more pills than Lego pieces, per capita
Rectangles, round, ovals, gel caps,
pasties, sublinguals, compounded, and tablets.
(to navigate the bottles, you’ll require maps!)
I’ve swallowed more handfuls of pills
I’ve dripped more drops of medications,
I’ve flown beyond this body,
but always come back.
If life = chronic infection:
hold close the light: it’s more illuminating than blackness
embrace love: let it heal and guide you
follow you heart, to your path
lead with hope, and courage will follow
find this moment, and you’ll receive the present
trust in happiness: it never left
welcome life, your old friend
live in your life: you’ll discover it’s waiting
open your arms, and embrace your future
open your mind, and wisdom and perseverance will arrive
open your heart, and love will fill it.
The beginning of the journey never promised
a fairy-tale ending,
the truth? At the end of five years?
Girl > Infection.
A note: This poem came to me this morning while watching the clock change from December 31, 2012, 11:59 PM to January 1, 2013, 12:00.
Angela and I went out to lunch at “The Reef”, a Caribbean restaurant with rocking food. Curry veggies and jerk tofu wrapped up in roti for me, and quesadillas for Angie. Fantastic! Nice to get caught up on everything in each others lives, and see the latest knitting projects!
I has been so bitterly cold these last fews days. 13 C doesn’t sound too chilly, but on the West Coast that means take that number and subtract a whole lot for windchill and damp cold. I was in full winter regalia. And still found it within my stubbornly sun-loving heart to complain of the cold. Nothing new there. I feel like if I could just be walking around, I wouldn’t notice the cold so much, or I could stomp my feet to get warm. I really want to get walking. I have been sick for so long…so lame!
The yoga does warm me up nicely. It feels really good to stretch. I am getting better, and the gals even introduced a few new moves this week, which is exciting! My hips are very weak…where there should have been muscle and fat at my side is now a hollow place. Lack of strength in my hips does make it hard to walk, or balance, so hopefully by strengthening there I can get walking that much easier and faster!
I only have to take this one kind of pill for 3 days, and then I take a break for 30 days. The catch it that I take 8 doses of this mediation per day. 8 little yellow pills that taste of chemically death. While I’m on these, I feel particularly awful and exhausted, something I didn’t realize was possible. I thought it couldn’t get much more terrible than doing IV meds twice daily, but for some reason these oral meds just push me way over the edge. Talk about frustrating! They also make me super nauseous, although for some reason today’s curry lunch hit the spot. Ironically, whenever I am feeling super terrible, I crave curry, and usually feel better afterwards. Wouldn’t it be sweet if I was craving the ayurvedic healing powers of turmeric and curry powder, coriander and ginger? Interesting thought, no?
There are some days where its a push to get out of bed. I may be exaggerating…if you’d ask my mom who has to bug me to get out of bed, everyday is difficult to get up. The few hours in between the time I’m given my late ‘morning’ pills by Mum, to me actually sitting up, pass in a sleep-drug hangover. It makes me rather annoyed that the pills don’t work at the time I’d like them to, but keep working long after I wish I was awake. By the time I do get out of bed, around 3, I have to start my IV, otherwise the timing is all wrong for the rest of the day. I feel like I’m always on drugs, but when I stop and think, I am.
I sometimes let myself wonder what life would feel like, if I was well. Sometimes late at night, when I have much “along-thinking-time”, I suddenly panic when I can’t remember what the sensation of running was like; what the emptiness of a fern covered forest smells like on one icy winter morning; what the exact sound a water-bomb smashing into your arm makes. Its these sort of things that keep me up at night.