Tuesday, January 31, 2006

The Chapter-Less Life

Every day of my life is a boring page in a lifeless book created by a man with very little to say.

I creak out an existence free of desire and passion.

Every day blends into the next, creating one long series of painful events culminating in insomnia and depression.

Twenty-one months of Dialysis PLUS twenty-four months on the transplant list EQUALS One Miserable Stacy.

So many dreams scuttled off to the basement of my mind, lonely and forgotten. The occasional glimmer of light shines in their direction for only a moment and then fatigue, Dialysis-fed fatigue smothers their hope for a brighter day.

Another five months will pass and nothing will change, except society's reference to me as being in my Late Thirties.

Translation: anything you could have possibly accomplished or created has passed like bad gas.

The slow, mundane limp to Middle Age begins.

Which begs the question: is a life void of health really a life at all?