not-quite Journaling, 25
on top of the world,
waiting for the next lifequake—
ROAR at the ready
12/9/2021: When one has been chronically ill for what seems like forever, it’s hard not to be hypervigilant about one’s health. Not so paranoid that one doesn’t enjoy life, but watchful enough to avoid getting kicked in the teeth by all the random new f*ck yous the chronic illness monster chooses to throw one’s way. The monster’s latest kick got me in the liver and the gallbladder. Or, at least, that’s what we’re hoping. Because if it also got me in the duodenum (more tests shall tell), then my crohnie behind will probably be in real trouble. End of Venting (for now).
Pain is hungry,
feed it wild art.
* The bit at the bottom, with the wee flowers and breast cancer ribbon, is a cutting from a painting, by Victoria Ramdass, in CONQUER: the patient voice).
I wish to call you a blur,
but flesh-screams aren’t quick
the background is from a photo by Camila Quintero Franco, on Unsplash
12/16/2021: When asked to describe 2021 in just one word, a friend of mine said, “blur”; then she asked me, “Don’t you think so?” After considering the question for a wee bit, I shook my head. Because for me, the one word that describes 2021 is pain: feeling pain, managing pain, eating foods that decrease pain, finding useful things to do with pain… Yep, the pain’s the word. I am so hoping that 2022 will tag a ‘less’ at the end of my pain.
- for Poets and Storytellers United--Friday Writings #7: Dear 2021…