Piece Meal

1.17.24- Slow and Steady. Just slow and resting. I’ve kind of put myself on the backburner in an effort to recover. Although it has only been a week, it feels like eternity. Since I started focusing on resting it has been absolutely dumping here. I’d have to say over 30” in the last week. I have to keep to keep the curtains closed. I can’t look out at the cold, blustery, snow filled afternoons. I can’t allow my mind to go to the Windows Gulley. It’s truly a place of dreams. Every run down is full of banking turns and small airs. I can’t get enough. Back to relity. I must rest. I must “recover”. But Recovery has always been an injury or ailness that has been had and is now working towards full strength. This recovery is just resting every week so that I can be administered poison that makes me more sick. It’s a terribl;e cycle. Or so I believed before mortality was on the table. Now I believe this cycle to be essential. Life is precious. I must do my part to improve my health. I’m not ready to give in. I’m not ready to give up. I’m just ready to give.

This disease has taken so much from me physically. Mentally it has drained me as well, however, the pure physicality that I see and experience each day are reminders set in stone. My right testicle was removed in the early Fall of 2022. Functionally is fine; It is a reminder though, every time I bathe and change, of the battle that I am enduring. I feel more aerodynamic but it’s a harsh reality constantly presented. The nausea at times has been unbearable, causing weight fluctuations that are hard to not want to control. My lung strength and body fatigue has trended poorly at portions and shut me down from activities for weeks at a time. The headaches have been unbearable as my blood levels plummet. My hearing got taken down to virtually nothing. Aside from the fertility affects, the hearing loss is the most constant reminder of my fight. For the first six months following my stem cell transplants I was doomed to pretty much a dull version of the audio sense. Pitches and soundwaves of certain levels were virtually gone. Fortunately I have a hearing aid benefit that accompanies my health insurance, but it is by no means a replacement for real sound. The crinkling of sheets, the sharpness of a snap. It’s manufactured noise. However, I believe it better than dull. It affects my touch, my feel. Sometimes overwhelming, but the crinkling helps my feel, the gunshot like noise of my camera’s shutter reminds me of strength. I possess strength. There are constant reminders of battle, but I possess strength. When I look at my figure in the nude there are reminders of battle wounds, but I persevere. I love, I show gratitude, I show strength. Life is not fair, but it’s important to feel.