My BP is too high, It's been creeping up for about a week. I've noticed the signs, but I didn't want to do anything. . . Didn't want to admit it was happening. Still don't want to but it's getting harder to ignore. Everything is irritating, every small sound, every small touch, every slight wind that reminds me I'm not healthy, I'm not vibrant and alive.
Between my fingers I rub one stand of hair, along it's length is the recorded history of my health, it's clear and defined, from rough to smooth with little dimplets of weaknesses interspersed with robust thickness. It's my history. Each divit is a story of a battle for my life. There is more weakness than strength and yet it hasn't broken.
how symbolic. . . the child broke it so easily while I wasn't paying attention.
Thursday, May 20, 2004