I need to leap outside of this myre, this awareness that time is slipping away and nothing is happening to improve my health.
For the first time I feel like I am truly chronically ill and I am being swallowed into the mouth of that whale too quickly. I have rolled with the punches so far, mind dodging and weaving away the frightening threads of this serious tapestry. I have no other defensive moves and although I will not cave and be counted out I will continue daydreaming for the shred of a future, threadbare as it may become, I am growing weary of the pummelling.
I travel from one good mood to the next counting my lucky stars on mounting foggy nights. It will be four years on July 9th in just over two weeks and it will pass as time does but the memory of lying in damp sheets fetal positioned for retching and then death, is as clear now as it was the next day.
My body caved in and now my mind wants to follow with my spirit and enthusiasm in tow. Not gently though, not gently, until the right time.