You think things are going well, you think your body is handling recovery, you think everything’s finally falling into place and working out just fine. And then fate decides to remind you that no, things do suck, you have no control over anything, and no matter what you do, that bad luck is going to follow you.

    This past Saturday, I was hit with overwhelming abdominal pain. I was in agony. But I was, like usual, gritting my teeth and bearing it. I spend the entire night throwing up. By Sunday, Mother’s Day, my stomach is empty, but my body continues to vomit anyway. I spend the day in the Emergency Room, they admit me to the hospital, I’m stuck with an IV in my neck for the second time in ten days. Only this time, my stomach just won’t stop.

    I start to get better, I’m doing okay, I want to get home. Then the decision is made to put an IV port in my chest so that I won’t have to deal with the IVs anymore. It goes badly. Really badly. I can’t even stand to tell you how badly. But it’s just not fair. Why am I followed by the inept, the heartless, and the cold? It’s too much, and as I laid there in pain, humiliated, exhausted beyond belief, I just wanted to give up. How can so much happen to one person?

    I’m trying to remind myself that it could always be worse, that there are infinitely worse conditions I could be subjected to. But it stops helping when the pain keeps adding up, when the mistakes never end, and the ups and downs never stabilize. There comes a point when you have to ask, when will it stop? When will I be given a chance to recover before I’m stabbed yet again? Will that ever happen? Or will it continue until I just can’t hold myself up any longer? I’m getting tired.