Always Remember the Divine

  There's something specifically awful about being sick (and surprisingly it's not trying to type with swollen fingers.. well, that does stink, but I digress). It's deeply isolating.   I know that it's isolating in a physical sense, I spend an immense amount of time alone. My days consist of seeing doctors, sleeping the majority of the day, trying to force some food in to try to maintain my weight (not really working), and pushing through an unpleasant but necessary drug induced stupor to try to get anything else done. My tolerance for food is at an all time low, eating even small amounts of anything that's not brothy or fermented costs me hours of suffering.   It starts with hiccoughing - hic, ow. hic, ow. hic, ow. Then within a few minutes, bloating and rancid burps from the rot that's happening in my stomach that doesn't move stuff or perhaps from my burning, tight throat and all the acid that's inevitably there. I get sharp, shooting pains in my ...

I had the distinct pleasure of remembering and reconnecting with Dylan Thomas' iconic poem, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, as I watched Interstellar last night (by the way, what an awesome experience go see it right now.) I've always found it to be a very personal piece, as a person who identifies myself as a fighter, a bit of a rebel and unconventional. Last night's repetition was powerful for two reasons: it reminded me of that when I had forgotten, and it increased my resolve to overcome my current circumstances. I have been struggling immensely with depression, and for good reason. As of Monday, I know something new about my body. I had a procedure (endoscopy) for which I was anesthetized in the morning and while I was coming out of anesthesia, my (wonderful) doctor came in to follow up on a few things before he had to go see other patients. He told me, in brief, that the test I had last week (about which I've been jokingly talking about my radioactive br...