It’s two years and a day since I had surgery. Unexpected, life-saving, emergency surgery. I was in incredible pain before it, and different kinds of incredible pain after it. Before the operation, I was doubled over. Stabbing sensations, rolling walls of abdominal agony that would come and crest and fall just because I moved a fraction of an inch too far. I didn’t know what was wrong. I mean, on a grand scale, I did, because when you’ve got Crohn’s, it’s a fair bet that what’s ailing you somewhere in the digestive tract is Crohn’s related. But it was a different kind … Continue reading marking time / health misadventures
When I talk to people, I speak freely. I open my mouth, and words come – thoroughly rehearsed, to a point. Every time I tell my mirror about my life, it’s a slightly different rendition of the same song. This is how it goes.
In high school, I was a swot. I went to a posh school, I was a high achiever, I was a musician. I didn’t even think to be rebellious until my last year, and my rebellion was not of the extreme variety. Most of my free periods were taken up with scholarship classes, but swot that I was (am, at heart) I had far too many, and three sessions overlapped.
So on occasion, I would tell art history I was going to French, French I was going to Spanish, and Spanish I was going to art history, and spend the fifty minutes feeling guilty while scribbling rambling poems in my binder instead. I got a second piercing in one lobe. That was my acting out. Continue reading “The Crohn’s Saga (to date)”
On operations and depression and musical talent wasted. Sorry, more angst before I get back into reviewing. It happens. There is a Banksy poster on my wall – The Girl With The Balloon’. There is always hope. I bought it in a lighter time. Now, even though it is opposite it my bed, I rarely notice that it is there. Unconsciously ignoring the message? Overworked and overwrought; life is catching up on me. Study and work and never saying no to requests for extra hours; trying to create my own things on the side. And on top of all of … Continue reading The dark and the difficulty
Pain. Drowning crinkle-cut curled-up flesh in whitest milk. Obligation lifts the cup, pours it in. No foil-wrapped magic tricks want to have anything to do with it; the capsule sinks below the surface before it can ignite. Flickers as a match might, but with the untiring power of the glowing ember. No end in sight. The worst days were better, because hope was still cradled that the broken parts could be cut away and mended, dead branches and grafts. But the poison is in the tree and eventually there will be nothing left but dried parts broken on the forest floor. All … Continue reading curled-up flesh
It is May 19th – at least in New Zealand, it is. On this day, the following things have happened throughout history Anne Boleyn was beheaded (1536) Nellie Melba, the soprano and namesake of a delicious dessert, was born (1861) Oscar Wilde was released from prison (1897) Pol Pot, leader of the Khmer Rouge and totalitarian dictator of Cambodia, was born (1925) André René Roussimoff, AKA André the Giant, was born (1946) Marilyn Monroe sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to JFK (1962) Tu’i Malila , the world’s oldest known tortoise died at 188 years old (1965) Jodi Picoult, Queen of Depressive Chick Lit, … Continue reading world IBD day
i do not want sympathy
i just want to be better /
i want to not have to use this page
as a diary or a one-sided counsel Continue reading held
sometimes i am flim flam or skewiff or shmeh-bleh or other phrases or syllables crammed together on the spot because it’s easier for nonsense to be spoken than to vocalise the deep other that lurks mostly in a corner but occasionally darting out shoving sense from all sectors and chaos reigns supreme Continue reading sometimes when i dare to tell you