You flow down my throat, course through my veins, and
pour into my lungs. I revolve my life around your dose times. I make numerous
trips to the pharmacy to the point where they now call me by name and ask how
my husband is doing. I take 14 of you in the morning, 7 of you at lunch, 8 of
you at dinner, and 11 of you at night. Being able to swallow you whole for the
first time is one of my most vivid childhood memories. You are the first thing
I pack and unpack when on vacation. I have dreams of diving into a sea of
enzyme capsules, flying through the haze of inhaled medicinal mist, or panicking
when I’ve forgotten to bring enough of you to my dreamland holiday. Sometimes
you do your job, and sometimes it’s not enough. Sometimes you make me throw up
and sometimes you make me feel better. You allow me to function. You allow me
to breathe. You allow me to live. But on the day when I’ll need just a few of
you, maybe even just one of you to keep me alive, to suppress or perhaps even
cure this disease, I will celebrate in a HUGE way. Until that day comes, I’ll
continue to swallow, inhale and inject you into my body in hopes of getting
through another day.
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| My rainbow of meds |
