Tuesday, 31 December 2013

Out of Service. Like a bus, at midnight (hysterectomy series #2)

It's New Year's Eve and every time I move more of my precious life blood pours out.  Sorry...I know...Gross out factor 10/10 but you'll just have to get over it or move on.

The weirdest thing is...its okay.  I'm taking the prescription again; I forgot a couple of tablets and this is the scary result, so I should be back on track by tomorrow night.  I will, however, still need medical treatment, and I'm ill.  Its such a blessed relief to finally admit this and stop fighting it.  I'm going with it, I'm transforming.

I've told my brother this, as his texts are relentlessly hopeful, 'hope you feel better soon' 'hope this...hope that'   In the end instead of my usual 'thank you', I yelled (texturally) WHY? Why do you hope that I get better soon?  I LIKE being ill, its honest, its painful, its uncomfortable, but its ME.  Its a different kind of Me, not the me that runs around cooking and cleaning and googling  your symptoms and worrying about your appointments, but a Me who is not at anyone's service.  I'm like a bus at midnight, I'm Out Of Service.  Closed.  Out Of Order.  Thank Fuck.

If I now wish to be alone, or read, or sleep, or write, or weep or pray, I shall.  Transformation time.

If you're at all interested in how all this pans out, many thanks for sticking with it, and you can read the next instalment here 

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