05.01.2007 - 11:36 a.m.

For two hours last night, trying to sleep, all I could feel was my gut twisting around itself. This happens, every so often. The pain would not have kept me up--you breathe deep, still yourself, and the pain fades to the background--except that I wanted to cry. I don't want to be sick again. Even now, with health insurance and a doctor I don't hate, I'm terrified that my body will betray me again, just up and decide not to support me anymore.

But I can smile through a day of pain. I've done it before, for weeks at a time. Yesterday, I worked eleven hours, gassed the car up, procured dinner, and had a lovely conversation with my husband about *his* long day before I retreated to soak in the bathtub, the pain having spread to my ribs, my lower back, my head. There were things I could do to help him. Before that bath, there weren't things I could do to help myself. Sometimes that's all there is to it.

I did finally drift off, although I woke up periodically after that, any time I shifted wrong. Today I'm more comfortable, only a hint of tenderness left in various positions.

I wonder sometimes if I'll be one of those people who die of operable cancer, just because I'll never get around to telling people I hurt. Even this comes down to control.

I couldn't tell you why I'm proud to be this way. It's a stupid way to be. But nobody saw me weak.

-stonebridge

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