It has been a long and dizzingly emotional summer, if I knew what snorting cocaine or other narcotics up my nose felt like I am sure that is what I am feeling and I don't find it pleasant just irritating and my face droops and contorts like I am trying to look out the eyepiece of those cylindrical things with the colors a kaleidoscope. Maybe I will imagine that the hundred times a day my crazy right side decides to declare mutiny and twist and turn and make me cry. That is the worst because then I think of my mother and I miss her the most because I can't tell anyone anymore because it isn't real, it isn't interesting. Your mother did not talk about her polio, and I know this is true, but I also know she had two years of people to explain it to her and help her understand the hell her body was creating. Yes, I am a whining freaking disaster, but I am so tired. These episodes are coming minutes apart not the accepted kind where I flail and froth, the hidden kind I blankly stare, my face goes numb, my nose feels as I've snorted my sister's stash way too fast, way too much, my eyelid hangs heavy can't hold it open, mouth starts to droop all on the right side, teeth clench, neck falls, arm weakens and I talk soft or slurry mix things up sorry didn't respond I guess I was listening. I'll just take exorbitant amounts of narcoleptic aids stay awake stay awake stay awake
Doctor says maybe I should consider the damaged part of my brain being removed. I was horrified. It is a part of me as much as my ugly feet, directional disability, and love of cats. He is trying a different drug therapy and I will have to actually adhere to a sleeping and eating schedule, work helps with that. I guess I'm ok not understanding and I can move on now. I will keep my temperol lobe intact with me along with my uterus. We have become friends on this journey I would miss the red birds.
3 comments:
Did the doctor really want to remove your brain?
He did propose that, but I didn't agree with him because I'm partial to a complete brain damaged or not.
I'm attached to my uterus, too, but if it betrayed me, I would say farewell - tenderly and with regrets. (I've learned good byes. Put too many loved ones into the ground, left houses hollowed out and empty, dropped my beauty off at the curb somewhere in the '80's. These aren't simply losses, however. They are the signposts of metamorphasis.) The road is littered with chunks of me, but I discover new bits of myself from time to time. It must be horrifying for the butterfly to crack through its chrysilis with untried wings, knowing it can never be a caterpillar again.
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