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Well, I finally got around to telling my mom I�m sick. It may sound trivial but it isn�t the easiest thing to do. I really haven�t mentioned it in my thoughts so perhaps that is an indication that it was something that I was attempting to keep from myself. I should face the reality though, it is better to seek out help than to end up dead or worse. I don�t know the seriousness of my health or lack thereof but I do have grave reservations about it. One of those �feelings� people get, kind of like a 6th sense. Although being able to tell if you are sick is slightly less impressive than talking to dead people. Anyway, the progressions of deteriations have been slow in coming but steady. It started about a week after I got home from the hospital. I noticed some spotting of blood when I went to the restroom. Then the spotting turned to real bleeding, followed by the chest pains. Severe headaches, cramps, stronger chest pains all persisted. Now I�m feeling like I shouldn�t take waking up in the morning for granted. Who knows what it is. All I do know is that I feel like shit and I�m thinking this is only getting worse. I have too much to do in my life to bow out now. I�m 20 years old; I shouldn�t be having these kinds of problems. I probably shouldn�t have waited as long as I did to speak up but what was I supposed to do? Should I go back to a doctor that I owe 5 grand to and ask him to fix me or just go back to the emergency room and rack up more bills I can never pay? That�s the system we live in today. In a perfect world, I walk in the hospital and the first thing they ask me is, �how you doing today?� and not �what�s the name of you insurance provider? Owe, no insurance I see�well have a seat over there.� There was no point in dumping all this on my parents. I suspect they prefer debt of death. I�m glad that now I�ll at least start seeking help. I feel humbled. For all my strength that has been bestowed upon me even I must turn to others in my time of need. The only other person I told was Jill. She didn�t say anything; she didn�t laugh or ask me embarrassing questions. She gave the same look that she used to give me in the dark, in her room, on all those nights, telling me with no words at all that everything was going to be ok. She cared. For all her faults, for all our misery, for all our differences, there is still that love. I guess that�s why we are who we are. We don�t have to be married or dating for that. That�s the bond we�ll always have. I don�t even know what made her look me up when she did. Maybe she had a feeling I needed a shoulder to lean on. Maybe she needed one too. That�s life as my mom says. You don�t always know what�s coming. I�ll take a deep breath and just hope that everything will be ok. My mom asked me if I prayed. Maybe I do maybe I don�t. I�m not really sure. What is praying anyway? I think about god a lot and talk out loud to myself in my thoughts. Is that praying? I don�t think god cares how you do it. I think god is like you parents. Your parents hate it when you call collect especially if you are a rotten son who only calls when you need something. But then again they are just glad to hear from you and a couple of bucks on the phone bill aren�t that big a deal. Don�t worry about me. I�ll end up on top. I always do. Hell, I�m the savior of humanity. I have to make it. I met a girl that I�m really going to try and screw up. I�m pushing forward to finish up my BA. And it�s Christmas! In the words of my nigger friends, �it�s all good.� |
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