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The opinions expressed herein are my own personal opinions and do not represent anyone else's view in any way, including those of my employer.
© Copyright 2008
The opinions expressed herein are my own personal opinions and do not represent anyone else's view in any way, including those of my employer.
© Copyright 2008
I am sitting here, wishing for words to type. I feel like I am on the verge of going bonkers. I am looking around my house and I can’t do much about the converging mess that is creeping over the floors like growing vines. I want to scrub things, but I can’t without feeling as though I am busting a lung. Thank God this can’t last forever. My futures trading up or down: either I get well or I don’t. I feel promise, but it’s so hard to feel that promise the whole day. The night sets in, the pains increase, the chills hover around my fingers trying to cling to my skin. I can feel them…trying to take hold, but the fever is gone. Why does it continue to try and plague me? My brain is higher than my head, floating on the essence of my existence.
Progress day by day. I’m on year old amoxycillin that just went out of code that I had up on my fridge, but whatever. It’s doing it’s job. I can tell. I can sit up straighter. Today, I was able to stand up longer and actually take a whole shower *half sitting, half standing*. I could eat more today. My eyes are clearer. My head hurts less. My back is no longer screaming at me. I still cannot breathe deeply or laugh or cough without pain. I still get dizzy if I stand or walk too long, but I am making progress. I thank God *and my mother who saved the meds that my sister never took*. If it weren’t for them, I would probably be in the hospital right now. Just a few more days, one step at a time…I should be alright in another week.
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