thoughts with substance
Erin,I had a chance to view your blog late last might and I must tell you that at first, I thought you were terminally ill. Your thoughts and feelings and isolation are so similar to what I go through, and I am young, and I am terminal. When I continued to read and read as you spoke of 'friends', I too could relate and unfortunately, this IS human nature and people just do not like the idea of having to deal with their own mortality.I believe it takes a courageous person to participate in a study, for what ever reason and hope that your intentions are pure and that you will NOT forget the isolation. You in turn, will walk where few want to, less understand, and too many have been before. Keep blogging! I have a site that I am creating about being terminal, my thoughts, my journey called: a complete piece. Soon I will invite the world into mine and I invite you as well.
With great respect,
thewarrior
I just got this comment, read through the entire blog all at once. It made me cry, question myself, and be thankful all at once. It gives me a lot of perspective, if only in a removed sort of sense. Or rather, it reminds me of a perspective I used to have, but selectively removed myself from it. At age nine, I watched my father go from what we thought was completely healthy to permanently hospitalized in a matter of days. He just never left. It's hard to think about, it's hard to watch happen. Like you said, Eric, no one wants to be reminded of their mortality. I've pushed this out of the forefront of thought and was in denial for so long that somedays I questioned whether or not it had actually happened. The mind is very strong, for better or for worse. I'm very lucky to have my health, I'm doing this study voluntarily and only because I'm so healthy. I had to be screened head to toe looking for everything from kidney stones to heart problems before I was cleared to participate. But I'm experiencing a significant amount of isolation, the extent of which I won't easily forget. The amount of empathy I'm gaining from this is astounding though.This has touched on a lot of raw nerves and hidden triggers, which I'd like to elaborate more on... but not now. My brain is too disjointed to really write any more for now. I'd like to take a nap, but I'm not allowed to. This would be a good naptime. -sigh-I shall return.
posted by Erin at 17:26
With great respect,
thewarrior
I just got this comment, read through the entire blog all at once. It made me cry, question myself, and be thankful all at once. It gives me a lot of perspective, if only in a removed sort of sense. Or rather, it reminds me of a perspective I used to have, but selectively removed myself from it. At age nine, I watched my father go from what we thought was completely healthy to permanently hospitalized in a matter of days. He just never left. It's hard to think about, it's hard to watch happen. Like you said, Eric, no one wants to be reminded of their mortality. I've pushed this out of the forefront of thought and was in denial for so long that somedays I questioned whether or not it had actually happened. The mind is very strong, for better or for worse. I'm very lucky to have my health, I'm doing this study voluntarily and only because I'm so healthy. I had to be screened head to toe looking for everything from kidney stones to heart problems before I was cleared to participate. But I'm experiencing a significant amount of isolation, the extent of which I won't easily forget. The amount of empathy I'm gaining from this is astounding though.This has touched on a lot of raw nerves and hidden triggers, which I'd like to elaborate more on... but not now. My brain is too disjointed to really write any more for now. I'd like to take a nap, but I'm not allowed to. This would be a good naptime. -sigh-I shall return.
posted by Erin at 17:26
posted by the warrior at 11:11 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home