tuesday 30.01
I have been in a confined state of contemplation, my inability to physically take the trip to FLA did nothing for my psche.
I no longer have to look for 'signs' of my demise as the writing has been written and the chapters are being read aloud so that I and hopefully all those around me can listen to the words, their meaning much less abstract than they have been before.
The characteristics of ill me are obvious to those that see me. I see them, but choose to look away for reasons I cannot explain with words I cannot write. The slowdown has begun and calmly, with dignity, I try to accept what is taking place physically.
Today my medicine was altered to make me more comfortable. Friday we will decide if a paracenthesis needs to be done next week with a catherater insert. I thought my last stomach tap was my last, at least I had hoped, as another means my disease has become more powerful and my battle much grander and larger than I am capable of fighting.
I continue to stand tall, no longer afraid of the taste of my tears but unable to produce them. I desperately want and maybe need a hug from me and this I know not how to do. I hear conversations of afar as I talk to myself about a simple yesterday and I laugh and hope for another tomorrow.
My eyes say what I am unable to write and as they nod off, my thought is broken until I hear that from afar over and again.
I no longer have to look for 'signs' of my demise as the writing has been written and the chapters are being read aloud so that I and hopefully all those around me can listen to the words, their meaning much less abstract than they have been before.
The characteristics of ill me are obvious to those that see me. I see them, but choose to look away for reasons I cannot explain with words I cannot write. The slowdown has begun and calmly, with dignity, I try to accept what is taking place physically.
Today my medicine was altered to make me more comfortable. Friday we will decide if a paracenthesis needs to be done next week with a catherater insert. I thought my last stomach tap was my last, at least I had hoped, as another means my disease has become more powerful and my battle much grander and larger than I am capable of fighting.
I continue to stand tall, no longer afraid of the taste of my tears but unable to produce them. I desperately want and maybe need a hug from me and this I know not how to do. I hear conversations of afar as I talk to myself about a simple yesterday and I laugh and hope for another tomorrow.
My eyes say what I am unable to write and as they nod off, my thought is broken until I hear that from afar over and again.
posted by the warrior at 2:38 PM
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