Went to work this morning. Felt shaky. Had a seizure. [Dag frickin life.] Came home. Drank water and vitamins and inhaled all the saltiest food and lay on the couch with an ice pack and a hat and both remotes although sometimes it hurts to hold them. Did my breathing. Want to break things.
I find that I bounce between total denial of everything ("This is fine. I'm fine. Look, I get to watch TV and write and reorganize my candles and daydream, isn't this nice, I'm fine. It's fine.") and like emo screamo punk rock "THIS SUCKS!" Emma's Brain. Eleventh Floor: Relapse Department. East Wing: Grief, Grieving, and All the Feelings.
Tonight I am lying here missing two separate dear friends' birthday celebrations. They each also suffer from a chronic illness. They, more than anyone, understand. We have a shared language of spoonies, of symptoms, of horrible doctor visits. But my illness and the distance between us geographically are keeping me from being with my community. This is what disability looks like. Isolation.
Thank God for technology. I was going to write a paragraph on that but now I am suddenly exhausted and need to close my eyes.
Later, friends.
et
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment