This was me last Friday, and most of the following days as well.


Last Friday was the last day for the injection to show any sign of effect. I lay in bed, staring at the clock, timing the rest period between the seizures. Hoping it would be more than 5 minutes, because then the last 7 weeks wouldn’t have been all for nothing.


5 hours.

That’s how long I could hold on the suffering. And then I gave up. I sat up straight, took my medicine, and within 15 minutes the seizures were starting to get suppressed.

I felt such a great sadness. So great, I couldn’t even cry. I stared at the crack of our bedroom ceiling, holding my umbrella to stay clear from the rain that poured through our ceiling. The night before a huge chunk of plaster fell down. The leakage we have for quite some time now, became too big to contain all the water that was pressing through the crack.



It almost felt like a metaphor for the way I was feeling. All though I  still can hold back my  greatest sadness, and release small amounts of tears from time to time, I still hold my plaster. I don’t fall apart just yet.

And I don’t plan to.


The next following days, I proceed in a certain degree of automaticity. I couldn’t, or rather wouldn’t, want to think and feel. But deep down, subconsciously, I was feeling too much feelings, and thoughts were running like pigs in a mud bath. So every now and then, tears suddenly rolled down my cheek, feeling as hot as boiling water. I didn’t feel like doing anything, and I wanted to do everything at the same time. I felt the pressure to start doing the things I wanted to finish before my kidneys are at 0%. Because when would that be, within 3 months, 6, or would I be granted more time?



Two things I really wanted to start, was painting an oil painting of Malha, and upholster our secondhand dining room chairs.



So I did. Like a madwoman.




I didn’t want to talk or see anybody, and I didn’t want to write about how I felt. I was scared if I did, I would drown myself from crying. I was so angry and disappointed of having too much hope, because I knew better that that. I even told myself beforehand, that I didn’t have hope, and I hated myself for letting tiny sparks of hope sneaky seep on through. How could I do that to myself???


Now, almost a week later, I am doing better, but still feel my head is all fogged up. I need to sort up my thought and feelings. It’s too much to process at once. When I was browsing the internet, I stumbled on this one.



Sometimes the craziest things can hint a spark of inspiration. This one instantly made me smile big-time. This is the metaphor for what I need right now!



I need to see the fun things in life, take it easy and enjoy it to the fullest. So will I forgive myself for feeling the way I do, try to store the mad woman, and take it easy to enjoy it all to the fullest again.