So, yeah… the intestines aren’t working again. This time the doctors say they see ulcerations, so at least it’s not all in my head. The symptoms are the same as always. I can’t eat, I have horrible pain, and I expel gas like a deflating Thanksgiving Parade.
Seriously. Where does it all come from? It’s like there’s nothing to me now but an empty sack releasing poots.
I can walk. It’s what I can do. So I’m walking a lot. Around and around my block, leaving, no doubt, a pac-man-like trail of little ghosts.
My shadow is so square. My shoulders are like a coat hanger. I’m all hip and shoulder. There’s a real fear of vanishing, of what’s left of me withering up into a string.
And I feel useless, what little I am. It’s hard to exist without purpose. Just existing to survive this stage. I want to create things, but for now I’ll have to be content with poots.
Buuuuurp.
2 Comments
Gracie · August 26, 2016 at 2:03 pm
It’s never been all in your head… darn emotional baggage, disease is hard enough without that added load. *Snuggaboo* poor reasie 🙁 (Though the poot-ing reasie drawing is very cute)
Nyla · August 26, 2016 at 4:50 pm
Hugs. You exist to be one of the coolest people in Cleveland. Hang tight. This too shall pass (no pun intended..well, ok, intended because what is life without fart jokes).
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