I look back to two showers in late 2008. Struggling with my life direction a shower is an escape. A cleansing and pure experience. In the first I glance down and think to myself “my lymph nodes are up”. I have been feeling wrong for weeks before this. I say wrong, it is a strange way to describe how one feels, but sick is too simple although it is also true. I feel wrong, my lymph nodes are up; I believe now that I knew deep down I was very sick. I did a herculean job of ignoring that fact. The second shower, a few weeks later. “my lymph node is still up”. There are little red, painful lumps on my foot right next to the large red swelling that I was told again and again was scar tissue. My continued denial, although determined could not hold out much more.
Before long I was showing in hospital. Tests, scans, bloods and countless doctors. I know now why I ignored the problem so completely. I would do anything not to go back to hospital. I hate it more than I can describe. My life is tottering on the edge. I no longer really wish to continue to watch myself degrade. It is almost intolerable for a person who enjoyed so much physical activity. If I was a man who believed in a vengeful and vice despising god I would think myself being taught a lesson. Pride is natural, a person not proud of themselves is a sad person. Now my pride drags me down and holds me under. There is nothing left for me in this body. Only this mind continues to please me. My body, I love, but it is gone. Nothing can save it now. I grieve more than I thought possible.
And so I look back at those two showers and I do not blame the boy who pushed down any suspicion. What has become of me now is intolerable to the point where its contemplation is not possible. I grieve for my old life and I look to whatever comes next. Certainly life had little left to offer.