“You’re one of the stable patients,” they said
As they kicked her to a dingy corner of the hospital.
With the other “stable” patients.
No space. No privacy.
No dignity.
But hey, at least she wasn’t dying.
She waited months for a specialist appointment.
Because she was stable.
Couldn’t work. Couldn’t read. Couldn’t eat if not for the tube in her side.
Couldn’t lift her head.
But she didn’t look sick.
If you ignored the puffy lines on her face
The way she always looked for a place to sit
The look of defeat in her eyes.
But hey, at least she wasn’t dying.

But what, may I ask, is dying?
Because I don’t think this is living.
Laying in bed.
Staring at the TV, but not really watching.
Sorting pills.
Scrolling through tumblr and twitter
Just to know there are others like me.
Making plans
I can never seem to keep.
I’m not living. And what is the opposite of living? [Read more…]