The Goog Nooz Is...

Night 10, morning 11. I'm beginning to love the smell of penicillin.  I have been graduated from high care to a general ward. I'm still in an isolation chamber. Which is just as well, because my fear of a secondary infection has materialised.  Last nig ht I was afraid to sleep because of two incidents involving a closed windpipe (how useless can a body be to constantly lock itself out of life?) I was sure that if I fell asleep for the night, Leandro, my 17-year-old pride and joy, would never be able to say "mom" ever again. I've said it before that it's not the thought of dying that bothers me, as frightening as I have since found that feeling out to be. What bothers me is leaving my son without me. I'm an unskilled parent, but my son knows me and I know him. I'm the only person who fully understands whether his little scowl is from a girl problem, or a gaming problem.  On night 10, it didn't help that I had the first uncouth night nurs...

Could this life thing hurry up and wrap it up already. I've obviously overstayed my welcome, I get it.  At some point a semblance of normalcy has to rear its head. I have to wake up and endure traffic, office banter, politics and loadshedding like everyone else. I'd rather enjoy those things, than endure being in a body that relays its hatred towards me every 2 weeks. Essentially deeming me a hermitress. Where was the need for an endometriosis diagnosis? Why am I now defending myself against low blood sugar? Will I ever be worthy of having the right amount of oxygen in my bloodstream? Should my heart be labelled as failed when it was doing its best to help the lungs. Excuse me, sir... ma'am Life, what can I do to free myself from your maze? In this damp cave that you've placed me in, is there a crossroads where I can choose to go to the left or the right? I'll take full responsibility of the outcome, but the journey and the sights and sounds throughout it are yours ...