I'm an emotional wreck. I was fine ten minutes ago, But I'm a steaming pile of train wrecked twisted metal now. I've never seen an IM begging me to be here because someone needs me before, and I've never felt so disturbed by the news that follows. It's really not something that close to me and yet it hit me as hard as if it were my own son who was living through the steps of my disease and not the father of a friend dieing the way she barely lived. Perhaps it's because I fear the genetic factor. I fear more greatly than I can comprehend that it is lurking in the shadows of my sons genes and that someday something will set off that ticking time bomb and there will be nothing I can do stop the course of his death, or worse that he will live, but only in the most tortured way. Or perhaps what I fear the most is reliving it, Watching each event unfurl and knowing exactly what is going on and knowing there is nothing I can do. Reliving each experience in a sequence I can't to this day bring myself to recall in the proper order. It's just too painful. There is a reason I don't remember. I can't.
why am I so terrified, almost hysterical at this? What the fuck happened to logic, when did it start having so little to do with my emotions?
where is the giant hug and the "there, there, everything will be all right"?
Friday, April 16, 2004