Dangerous Compassions

content warning: poop

Sucks when you can’t eat food.  My friend brought me some vegan potato soup she made for me, yesterday.  I really wanted to eat it.  But I was too sick last night and went to bed at 6. 

Up sick around midnight, I had part of a banana and some reduced sugar orange gatorade.  I asked Ming to buy me sugar free, but he couldn’t find it at the two stores he looked.  I ordered some electrolytes mix so we can make our own, without sugar.  But I hope this will be over soon.

Doctors, heartless.  Monday the new GI doc said my diarrhea for a week was no big deal.  She doesn’t care it’s making me miserable.  She only cares about the ulcer, I guess.

Well, I feel strong this morning, in contrast to other mornings.  I’m weak physically, but I’m glad to have my life. 

Fasting for more labs.  My arms are pretty again, the hospital bruises healed, but I guess I’ll take another.

Yesterday we survived the stool sample ordeal.  Ming helped me like crazy.  They wanted the poop in five different containers, two different ways, two of them frozen.  Instead he drove it all to the lab right away.

Weird what you can get used to.  Our elder friend from Colombia talks to himself all the time in Spanish and does this weird growling thing.  Maybe it comforts him.  You learn to tune it out, or just think it’s fine.

Well, the sun came up over Freedom House again.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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