Wednesday, May 14, 2014

What Brings Me Down

I skipped yesterday's topic of a poetry slam for diabetes because I haven't written poetry for years and years and I am relatively disinterested in  poetry on a whole.




My body can be a mess. When I get something as simple as a paper cut there is an entire emotional process that happens. I have to be wary of where the cut happened, when, how clean the area is and take immediate action. I have to wonder if this will be the cut that limits mobility,causes and infection and potentially points to complications. Will that envelope be sealing more than the letter contained? Will that envelope push me down a slope of "why me? what did I do? can I go back to normal?" There are days where I sit on the edge of my bed after a shower, I go over my body inch by inch (and there's a lot of inches). I check for cuts, scabs, dry skin, spots, lumps and anything that may be out of the ordinary. I trace cuts that may be slightly inflamed with a pen and make sure the infection doesn't grow. I squeeze my nails to make sure that the pads underneath fill with blood quick enough. I have only ever had one cut get infected so bad I needed medical treatment (antibiotics) and it was on my chest, of all places.

It's those days, the days I scan myself with baited breath. The days I recollect every fold, lump and scar on my body that I am reminded that my body is only partially mine. The days that I am reminded that outside forces are doing everything they can so my body can be re-claimed, but until then my immune system will always be on high alert. My immune system is on its own. My immune system gets confused and attacks its own cells sometimes. My immune system comes before everything else in my body and sometimes...

Well, sometimes my body isn't mine, some days we live in fear of what we might have done or be doing to ourselves.  But even worse, what we have no control over.

And that gets me down.

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