Shitty, for simplicity

I am sorry. Some of you left me text messages and emails and I had been slow to respond, if at all. The past couple of days had been a bane. If I must choose one word to describe what it had been, I'd probably choose "shitty" for simplicity.

Nasi Lemak didn't work this time. Nor did Roti Canai. The thought of those two just puts me off. I kept burping up gaseous stuff and when I breathe in, the air is reeking with the smell of medication. If I could ask God, I would really want to know, for sure, what His plans are. Am I intended to survive this? If not, why not just take me quick and be done with it? And then my thoughts went out to Job. The book of Job is a difficult one to understand. But I don't want to understand it. I don't need to understand it. I hate being where I am, the Here and Now of the present. I understand why I have to go through this but going through it is hard. Food in my mouth turned to ash. I am hungry but food brought no pleasure or satisfaction.

Do I want to survive this? I should. Could I? Probably. I don't know. I'm confused. At times, I thought in terms of recovery and focused on what I would want to accomplish after my recovery. I want to think positive thoughts and I know I should but in a moment of weakness, adversed thoughts crept into the outer peripheral and make a mockery of me.

I hear about the actress who died of breast cancer, the actor who died of liver cancer. The relative of a friend of another friend who had pus and blood oozing out of her breast. Each time I hear such stories, Hope and Courage abandon me and I am left with fewer arsenal to face my demon. Yet, what should I do? Should I avoid the bearer of unhappy news and continue living in a make believe happy-happy-Devil-May-Care world? No. That world no longer existed. It stopped existing when I found my Beast.

Meanwhile, my temperature is good. 36.9 deg Celsius.  It looked like I'll live - for one more day. Let's see what tomorrow brings. Tomorrow, I turn 53.