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Further on this Odyssey

Procrastination had a bit of a  grip until now. I’m finding the honesty needed to write this very draining. Also, around two weeks ago, I had a ghastly thought – what if I don’t die of this? What if I continue in pain and exhaustion, unable to breathe properly, my world becoming smaller as time goes by?

Whilst I am not anxious for my demise to occur soon, the thought of dragging on in this way brings me misery, which is not an option as it will increase my pain and cause suffering. I need to bring some meaning to each day, whether by writing, socialising, being kind to others, being kind to myself, enjoying my daughter, engaging with discussions, meditating, eating lots of chocolate (the only dairy I allow myself), and great ice cream now and then. (OK, that’s dairy too, but rules never really work do they?)

Last week, I read an interview with someone with whom I had a strange acquaintance and with whom I am estranged for the most bizarre of reasons. He is afraid of death. The compassion I felt for him almost brought me to tears. He is terrified of the one thing that is certain in life. I remember that fear, and other fears that the immaturity of youth carries with it, causing one to bargain with God. Please don’t let me die before I (experience intimacy, travel the world, buy this, achieve that…). The variety is large. I realise now how the fear of death affects his everyday living and wonder how much less hectic his life would be without such fear.

This week I have had a bad cold. In fact, this ‘cold’ has hung around for five weeks as my immune system is so poor – the Dystonia from which I suffer is an auto-immune disease among many other descriptions. The first four weeks the symptoms were nothing much, the occasional sneeze, a scratchy throat, the need to blow my nose once in a while. This week, my throat became very painful, sneezing seemed to be non-stop, but the worst was the coughing and breathlessness. At one point I wondered if I should call an ambulance as breathing and swallowing were so painful, dreading that I needed antibiotics. Today I have felt a lot better, although now, having eaten dinner, breathing is harder again. I know that if my throat becomes painful again it will be hard to avoid antibiotics as it will indicate a strep. infection. It seems a pity to let a boomerang of a sore throat cause misery.

So, I continue to choose to be happy. Content. To choose anything else would be pointless and cause the misery and suffering that is so pointless. I have a part-time carer now. It helps a lot with practical things, like washing my hair, getting admin done, my washing. Sometimes it’s good just to have a hand to hold mine (I know this person well). I dread making phone calls or answering the phone. It’s good to be able to pass the buck sometimes. It also makes life a lot less worrisome for my daughter.

I’m in a good place, although this week has been difficult. There is much for which to be grateful. I’m looking forward to having my hair cut, after far too long. I can’t change anything but myself, and I’m glad of that though I am aware that some changes are needed. But that is not my business. Not directly. It certainly isn’t my responsibility.

 

 

 

 

By Chrisssie Morris Brady

I've read poetry since I was nine and have written creatively since I was fourteen (probably long before that). After writing book reviews and social comment, I decided I wanted to write poetry. I have no formal training, but I surround myself with poets and their writing. I am honing my craft.
I have two published collections which I don't feel good about, but have been published by madswirl.com and other publications. I live on the south coast of England with my daughter. I am seriously ill.

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