“I’ll send someone in to schedule the test,” the specialist says to me. “Wait here a moment.” I nod and watch her leave. As the door clicks shut, a sinking, sick, hollow gap grows and groans in my chest. I shrink against the uncomfortable chair, stare at my hands or count the number of tiles on the floor. I don’t look at the posters of disease on the walls. I already read them earlier. It never gets better, this moment after the door shuts and there is only you and the white white room. It never changes. The me who...
Dear Body, Well, here we are again, on the night before everything starts to roll. You remember last time, yeah? We were seventeen and they’d taken the bloodwork and there was a crazy Mississippi storm that night. Remember how we curled over and cried a little and then wrote some poetry? Yeah, it sucked – the poetry, and the night. I’m not mad at you. I’m not breaking up with you. Partially because I can’t since, let’s be honest, you are me and I’m just personifying you to make sense of something that can’t be made sense of. (more…)
I’ve just passed my six year anniversary of the first time I felt symptoms of Rheumatoid Arthritis. Honestly I spend most of my time doing my best to not dwell on this stuff, but I feel like I need to look into the past and share it. Everyone’s journey is important, even if it is sucktastic sometimes, and maybe hearing mine will help others with theirs. (more…)
