take one woman with low self esteem, but quite good hair
add one moronic illness
stir in some medication which causes hair to fall out
mix it all up and this is what you get...

Monday, October 08, 2007

I've missed you 

Last time I saw you, I was lying in a hospital bed, back in March.

You really chose your moment, didn't you? I had to have my biopsy that morning. Whilst the biopsy itself wasn't so bad, afterwards I had to stay motionless on my back for six hours - possibly, the longest six hours of my life, although the time I spent on the back of that motorbike on my way from Lyon to Brussels came pretty close.

After a while, all I could think about was the pain in my back, tears leaking out of my eyes, sipping water with a straw because I could only raise my head a little.

I remember them announcing my diagnosis and the proposed treatment while I was flat on my back. I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, but I wasn't allowed to move. I let those fat tears just run down my cheeks - they were still there when Big turned up. Between sobs, I told him what they'd told me. His own tears joined mine as he held me.

So when you came, it wasn't a great time. I wasn't at my best, wasn't prepared for your visit, even though your arrival heralded a kind of relief. You stayed for a few days - a breath of normality when everything else was alien and scary.

Then you were gone.

For six months, I didn't see you. I wondered if I would see you ever again. Sometimes I would wake up in the night in a cold sweat and would convince myself that you were gone forever. I'd kind of resigned myself to it, and was okay with that.

But is that you I can see? Is that you I can feel? Your presence is as comforting as it is irritating. What you represent is not what I want or need. And yet.

What you do is contribute to my feeling normal again.

My period.

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