The Power of Blue
01/04/2005
Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. Thursday, Friday, Saturday…
All here.
This is how I begin my week. Making sure all the pretty pills have found their rightful homes.
Make sure there are 2 oval blues, one round blue, one long brown, and one multi-colored capsule.
This is the beginning of my day. This is the Power Breakfast that allows me to enter the world.
Daily inventories to make sure I have enough Power to get me through to the next doctor’s appointment. Weekly cash inventories to make sure I can indeed HAVE another doctor’s appointment. Attitude adjustments, pissy moments, and other encumbrances that mark the world of the sick.
People are funny when you’re sick. Everyone wants to know your diagnosis. Everyone looks disappointed when the secret is withheld. I live days through the ‘guessers’ – those who throw out something hoping to get a response or a tick of recognition. But I’ve become too good at the game. Still annoyed that the game is played but I’m good.
I know how to keep my mouth shut. I know how to keep what’s only mine to tell. It’s between God, my doctors and me and we ain’t talking.
What makes being sick more sickening is the drama…other people’s drama. The stories, the condemnation, the miracle cures heard on late night tv, and again the guesses like my life is really a game.
I’ve made up other words to say, "I’m sick". I hate myself when I am forced to pick up the phone to my employer to say; "I won’t be in today." I despise the insurance companies that deny me coverage because "sick" is stamped across my medical file. And, I hate the pills – those tiny pills that help me make it through the day.
I wish I could smile the gremlins away. I beg to say the right prayer that will banish the bastards from my life. Maybe I need to light the correct scented candle or dance another type of dance under the full moon…
No matter what I’ve tried the dreaded word still haunts me – still smothers me.
One pill to make you larger, one pill to make you small…
So, another week I count: Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. This is the mantra in the world of the sick.
zss
© 2005 wrosesongs
All Rights Reserved
Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. Thursday, Friday, Saturday…
All here.
This is how I begin my week. Making sure all the pretty pills have found their rightful homes.
Make sure there are 2 oval blues, one round blue, one long brown, and one multi-colored capsule.
This is the beginning of my day. This is the Power Breakfast that allows me to enter the world.
Daily inventories to make sure I have enough Power to get me through to the next doctor’s appointment. Weekly cash inventories to make sure I can indeed HAVE another doctor’s appointment. Attitude adjustments, pissy moments, and other encumbrances that mark the world of the sick.
People are funny when you’re sick. Everyone wants to know your diagnosis. Everyone looks disappointed when the secret is withheld. I live days through the ‘guessers’ – those who throw out something hoping to get a response or a tick of recognition. But I’ve become too good at the game. Still annoyed that the game is played but I’m good.
I know how to keep my mouth shut. I know how to keep what’s only mine to tell. It’s between God, my doctors and me and we ain’t talking.
What makes being sick more sickening is the drama…other people’s drama. The stories, the condemnation, the miracle cures heard on late night tv, and again the guesses like my life is really a game.
I’ve made up other words to say, "I’m sick". I hate myself when I am forced to pick up the phone to my employer to say; "I won’t be in today." I despise the insurance companies that deny me coverage because "sick" is stamped across my medical file. And, I hate the pills – those tiny pills that help me make it through the day.
I wish I could smile the gremlins away. I beg to say the right prayer that will banish the bastards from my life. Maybe I need to light the correct scented candle or dance another type of dance under the full moon…
No matter what I’ve tried the dreaded word still haunts me – still smothers me.
One pill to make you larger, one pill to make you small…
So, another week I count: Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. This is the mantra in the world of the sick.
zss
© 2005 wrosesongs
All Rights Reserved
posted by I am Z @ 1:15 AM
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