Someone very close to me has been bravely battling leukemia for over a year. They did chemo and the cancer went into a false remission… for all of three months! They turned to an experimental drug protocol, and finally radiation. But now they’ve stopped all treatments.
There are so many emotions… I can’t even begin to form them into complete, coherent sentences. Just…
I get comments addressing the “writers” or “you guys,” or “this forum,” and I have to keep repeating myself… I’m a “me.” This blog has one author, one moderator. Perhaps I’m being a tad overly sensitive, but this is my blog. These thought and feelings and experiences are mine, and I own them.
And now I will blame hormones for this rant and move on.
March has nearly slipped the coop. Where did it go? I had to post at least one more time before month’s end, and I want it to be whimsical. After all, if you cannot laugh with this disease, then it is bound to drive you insane.
I once knew a crotchety old man with a bum knee. He swam. He golfed. He took nightly walks around the block. He was just a bit slow, smelled of ointment and rubbed that knee a lot. Peculiarly, he also called it Sally.
“Sally’s gone arthritic.” “Sally’s locked up.” “Hold up, Sally needs rubbin’.”
You get the idea… everyone, from the postman to the corner grocer asked after Sally.
I remembered that man and his silly knee this morning. And it got me thinking…
Have you noticed there is a name for your period? Aunt Flo. I get the context, but Flo is a real female name. Could you imagine naming your endometriosis? Or does yours already have one? Is it male or female?
I’m not sure what I would name mine… or if I even would. Bob? Jan?
Endometriosis doesn’t have an adorable face just screaming its name. Its an insidious, evil; a poisonous alien and your body is nothing but the host.
There. I found my name. Alien.
Disclaimer: This post discusses infertility.