Monday, April 20, 2015


I should have known better.

Re-reading the previous three entries, I sound like an idiot.  Three days.  That's how long the treatment lasted.  A treatment I can only have every eight weeks, and it lasted three days.  I'm back to the pain and to spending, quite literally, half of my day in the bathroom.  When I am able to make it that far.  I had promised myself I wouldn't feel too much hope so that I wouldn't be to miserable when, not if, those hopes were dashed.

I really should have known better.

Still, it was a bit of an education in self-inspection.  I do need to learn to define myself in a better way, and not in terms of this vile, vile illness that over the past fifty years I have come to hate more than I could ever find the words to describe.  I really am not my illness.  I'm just not sure what I actually am.  I'm working on it.

Still, I should have known better.

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