I am an addict

I posted a rant on my chasing away salt water page earlier today, much of which I've included in this piece. It involves the Cystic Fibrosis community - my community, if you will - and my burning question was this: when will people start taking responsibility for their lives? Why are there GoFundMe pages being created to ask for … Continue reading I am an addict

Happy Birthday, M

For M.E.B We became another death (the fulfilment of my internship). Like a false syncope, my grief would not let me claim you. You came to me with bleeding gums and a dent in your jaw, your broken gait like a barber cutting through walls of plasticine with blunt scissors. Bruised pride; your face a field of … Continue reading Happy Birthday, M

The night I lived again: part three

There is beauty in the ordinary. Waking up, making coffee, washing my hair, going to the post office. All ordinary things made extra-ordinary because I am here to do them. I woke early to watch the moon sink and the sun rise. The east screamed tangerine and the sun pierced the thin veil of sky with … Continue reading The night I lived again: part three

My night without armour

May-August 1998 I was in the dying room. You know the one. It's quiet. People slip in and out as though they were never there. Festering in a bed for three months, I had grown tired. My arms were the shape of soft baguettes, peppered with freckles like sesame seeds. Lips, a permanent shade of blue. Colourless … Continue reading My night without armour

(dis)connection

Yesterday was all about disconnection. After having another high-ish white cell count and another blood result that can be indicative of infection, rejection (it's not rejection) or inflammation, my IV antibiotics were ceased because I've pretty much had all my body can take. Because it's been two weeks, my CV line also had to be pulled. After … Continue reading (dis)connection

The week that was …

Last weekend saw me help shepherd my sister out of the shadows of a broken marriage and into freedom. Freedom from years and seasons of pain and sacrifice, and freedom born out of an indelible cost to her humanity and identity as a woman. A big group of people who love her ferried her out of … Continue reading The week that was …

Autopsy of a marriage

Thrumming away from each other like broken mountains, by your second year, you had been excommunicated. Wrought by the passage of God, your clipped speech and ruddy cheeks made it hurt to be alive.   Her dowry – platelets swimming under skin and a fertile womb. Yours – a cellar of wine and an insistent mother whose teat you … Continue reading Autopsy of a marriage

Another angel at my table

I am, right now, stuck in that stinking, mephitic mire that is grief. It is as though I am cemented to the one place. Just about everything hurts, and just about everything makes me cry. Some photographs arrived in my inbox around lunchtime, and that mallet of sorrow swung a blow so hard that I lost … Continue reading Another angel at my table