A year ago I wrote a draft of a post explaining why I loved the ocean, as to explain why I gave this blog the name aquapages. The problem is that I’ve yet to find the right word to describe how or why I love the ocean. So as I’ve put some thought into the design of this thing, finally, I thought why not post a little snippet of the explanation behind the name and the strange level of interest for someone who isn’t on or in the ocean that much.
I don’t think I could ever live in a place far from an ocean or any body of water that I can look out on. The light-dark-blue-green-black everchanging color calms me, the open space makes anything seem possible as my chest expands and is rid of worry, the endless movement energizes me. It makes me feel entirely too small and too grounded at the same time. I get the same feeling that drives people to look up at the nightsky. But when the nightsky seems the same every night, and my neck gets tired of arching the weight of my head, the ocean always seem to be right in front of me and different from an hour before.
I have never been happier in my life than when I feel my body floating, when all I am able to smell is salt. It eases pain, it’s probably the only time my body is all one temperature because my hands and nose are always too cold. Here in Norway, especially further north, the water is always too cold, too restless, too dangerous. I should curse the ocean, I should stay away and despise it. My mother is afraid of it, even before it took the latest family member. In a family of part-time fishermen more than a handful of people has been taken by the ocean at this point, even if I only know the name of the latest three of them. Still it’s just as dangerous as the beautiful nature here always is, a reminder of what humans never can conquer all of, something that never can be child proof. Small accidents are reminders to not make bigger mistakes. To be a good swimmer. We take our precautions, sometimes, but other times there’s whales – enormous whales, a flock of them, sprouting water from the holes in their back like in the kid’s cartoons and every tiny white plastic or wooden boat is trying to get as close as possible.
Have you ever seen how strange water moves? How sound travel in water? How objects move in water? How when the melted ice that’s river water meets the ocean it creates a weird mix that I’m not entirely too happy about because it’s not salty enough? (More salty water just smells different and tastes different and makes you float better, still people don’t understand my problem with it being less salty.) I can lie just beneath the water surface, sound warped just enough so that I feel isolated from my surroundings – but still aware of what’s happening – and watch the living world underneath me through a scuba mask for hours.
Ok, I hope I don’t have to specify how those two things were unrelated.
The lack of uploads are because of *drumroll* – me not reading anything! YEAH. NO. I hate it, but you know – starting university. My first meeting ever in a book club was a while ago and it went great, I talked mostly not about books with other people, but also lent out my copy of my favourite of Mary Oliver’s poetry collections; “A thousand mornings” (review linked) so I see that as a success. Anyway, we’re supposed to start with discussing “1984” by George Orwell and I haven’t even gotten to opening that book, let alone one I actually want to read.
Short reviews: Fencing & Geeks (Fence by C. S. Pacat & Queens of geek by Jen Wilde)
Failed book posts:
So, I started a lot of book posts this summer and then I either didn’t finish them and let too much time pass or I just realized they existed, and they might be published soon-ish.
Shatter Me reread!!! It really held up, I loved it so much the first time and nearly equally much this time. I don’t know how many times I’ve read it now. I’m still amazed by how nuanced and morally gray all the characters are, and how amazingly Tahereh Mafi describes Juliette’s feelings of isolation and her transformation and personal change through the series.
Also I read Restore Me by Tahereh Mafi, the 4th book of the series. I never wrote that review either, mostly because I read the books so quickly that I mixed them all together in my head.
“Why I love the ocean” is a post I’ve had in the works for so long and never really got the final edit down on. I’m just going to force myself away from it and publish it as unfinished as it feels. There’s some things that just always could be made better.
Two other books I loved, but apparantly never reviewed??? (Don’t You) Forget About Me by Kate Karyus Quinn and Running with Lions by Julian Winters.
Lab Girl by Hope Jahren was my all year favourite book, and probably a review will be posted towards the end of the year – but I’ll have to reread it because I was so immersed in thinking about that story I forgot to write any of those thoughts down! I can’t recommend it enough, especially for people who want to look into one scientist’s life and made me so excited for university, even though I’m studying physics.
Posts about ways I try to declutter my way-too-long TBR
I started a series of posts called “reading my lowest rated books (on goodreads)” to find out the reasons behind it, but then I just stopped reading in general soo… some other time it will be a good idea?
Other books I’ve been reading:
Six Not-So-Easy Pieces by Richard Feynman (about physics, it’s the only thing I can allow myself to read right now hahhha). Six Easy Pieces (the first book in some ways) was a really good intro to physics for anyone.
Added to TBR:
IT’S THREE MEMOIRS! I love listening to memoirs on audiobook (it’s basically the only type of audiobook I really love), so I’m looking forward to this.
Over the Top by Jonathan Van Ness
Permanent Record by Edward Snowden
Antoni in the Kitchen by Antoni Porowski
Three things on my mind:
This last week sucked so badly, because of migraines. I’m really going to have to pull myself out of studying and doing fun things and put more effort into taking care of myself and getting myself to the doctor(s) to change some medicines.
About taking care of yourself; after moving by myself one thing I’ve really realized is that no one around me yet recognize how difficult certain things are for me. It should be a given, but it wasn’t. Mainly the small things. I made myself do the work necessary for paperwork connected with illness and hospital this week. I made myself agree to getting my first every appointment with a psychologist be moved up, even though I was freaking out for two days thinking about nothing else. I made myself go there, to be honest. And then it took a few more steps, with the guidance of that psychologist, to get me into the right place for more evaluation and eventually treatment. I’ve felt horrible all week, physically and mentally. But I did that. And I’m proud of myself for it.
Also I realized after that I really needed that first psychologist to believe me, to say that something was wrong with the way that I felt. Even though I knew she needed to refer me to someplace else, as her field is more general student problems and depression/anxiety, I needed that first person to agree with me that I was experiencing dissociation and to say what I was afraid of and call it (a most likely, and trying to be vague) disorder stemming from traumatic experiences. I don’t think what I brought to her table was what she expected that thursday morning, but I don’t feel too bad because of how intrigued she looked towards the end, trying to figure out which symptoms I was experiencing.
i had a person tell me he wanted to die, last week. that might be an abrupt beginning to this, but he told me very abruptly as well. i was cooking dinner. he was looking to tell someone. and he’d just gotten back for signing up for treatment. he wasn’t the first one who has told me so since i moved here for university, but he was the first one where i had no clue something was wrong. i told him as much, during our hours of conversations since.
but this isn’t about him, it’s some thoughts i’ve had afterwards. on a very personal level i’m glad i feel like a safe person to tell for more than one. on the other hand i’m the absolute worst person to tell because i have no distance or objectivity, having lived with pain and death and pain and death hanging over my head for so long. i tell everyone of them that, scared that i might make things worse by my understanding too much. not that i think i’ve ever really felt the deepest pits of depression.
a big problem with conveying mental health issues is that you need to be a damn good story teller to be able to portray it correctly. this guy’s descriptions and metaphors were vivid and won’t leave my head. whatever i’m feeling i can’t describe as eloquently.
i’m doing great since the move, really. since beginning university. that doesn’t mean i don’t live in a cycle of constant chronic pain because of illness and is tired down to my bones, sometimes. and sometimes lonely. today it’s because i really need someone who understands me and feels safe to hold around me and i haven’t yet found that here. i will, eventually.
I’m moving. I wondered whether to post this or just keep it to myself, but why not. I’m currently publishing this from a six hours busride to the new city. I both love and hate this place I’m leaving behind, which makes everything so much more difficult. I’m reminded of Mary Oliver’s poems about her hometown, where she continually goes back in her mind to her love for the nature, but also she escaped into the nature – reading poetry collections in the forest – to get away from the awful parts. Also the italic parts are the ones you’re definitely allowed to skip because this is a roller coaster.
My grandpa was very ill when we made the choice to move five years ago, to this village in a valley with a thousand people living here. The reason we moved wasn’t because he was ill, but the connection to him and this place was why we moved here. And then – in the summer between the decision and the move – he died. My grandpa was a man who went through hardships in his life, including having his leg amputated after illness. Still, he also always seemed larger than anyone he was standing in front of. He wasn’t born in the valley village, but right across the deep ‘fjords’, on a mountain farm only accessible by boat.
When my grandpa was a child during WW2 his family hid politicans from the nazis in the area. It was a combined effort from multiple farms, but ours had a great & useful escape plan because of the mountain layout. One politician in particular made an impact on him, with the way he carried himself and spoke. That politican looks quite similar to the man my grandpa would become, going from leading the factory workers campaign to being the mayor and then getting better hospitals built in the district.
When we moved I spent one year in the village full-time, being very active in the community, before I started high-school in the city and chose to commute an hour each way by a tiny bus instead of moving straight away like most 16-year-olds did. And I continued to live there and commute one hour each way for the next four years.
What everyone asks me about: Isn’t commuting to school and waking up at 5 am every day fucking exhausting?
What I say: *insert one of five different standard answers, because i’m really bored of this question*. What I want to say: I really really really want this education and is willing to do anything for it, I already moved from across the country for this reason, I don’t think you understand. I learned my limits though – can’t sleep less than five hours three days in a row, or sleep only five hours all weekdays and expect to be functioning during the weekend. Also the lack of sleep is probably damaging in the long run, but I’ve not looked into the science behind this on purpose.
The commute took three different buses, meaning you never got to sleep for the whole hour. The worst period was when my joints were so bad that standing up and walking off the bus after half an hour was pure torture, not to mention half-jog to the next one. I really should’ve had crutches, but I never knew if my wrists or knees would be more locked up. But it hasn’t been that bad – I like daydreaming/reading/sleeping/creating stories while looking out on the beautiful nature on my commute. It does really dig into the time I have to study and other activities though, which is where the lack of sleep comes in.
I’m not the first in my family that commuted. At the beginning of this year I found a book mentioning how my greatgrandparents used to commute an hour and a half to elementary school from the family mountain farm across the ‘fjords’ – by fishing boat. The waters here are treacherous too often, so applause to them.
What I wished was the NR 1 problem in this village:
We don’t have any sun in my village for FIVE MONTHS from october to march. The tall mountains of the valley block any chance of seeing sunlight and it’s more depressing than you can imagine. It’s not like it isn’t dark enough up north during winter. My grandma hated it too, and she was from even further north, where the nights can be even longer.
What’s actually the NR 1 problem in this village:
As much as I’ve found community in parts of this village, with incredible adults behind them, I’ve found the darkest evil hatred as well here. In such a small community one person can do a lot of good, as well as a lot of bad. I got on the wrong side of one of the bad ones. And then – because it’s such a small town – each person has their own relationship and view of these people and then it takes a lot to try to change people’s minds or make them see the parts you’re seeing. I’ve done it for a few people. But then it’s not always worth it, and if you meet the wrong person, suddenly the target on your back has grown. There’s also a lot of willful ignorance here as well, besides the evil. The bullying is really bad. People are targeted and harassed for pointing it out to outside authorities. People’s lives are destroyed over it. More ignorance is spread as the kids in general internalize the culture. People who’s not grown up here is told they don’t belong here, also straight-out at community events. Because who’s here to reprimand them?
So I’m finally leaving, and I hope I can return and again see beauty here sometime
I don’t agree with how this village is run. I can appreciate the nature of it, the wildness and the history both I personally and my family has with it. But living here made me see something I didn’t when I came here on holidays and vacations – the corrupted unmoral souls of some of the people in charge. It makes some sense, the lack of people to double-check your decisions makes it easier to get away with being mean and unfair, until it grows into abusing your power outright and there being no system to rein it in because they either dissolved them or never set them up.
Sometimes I want to scream from the treetops what this village has done. To itself. To who knows how many people (I’ve heard a handful of tragic stories, who knows how many more there are). Or maybe it’s just a few bad people, but then the rest of us have kept our mouths shut long enough for them to gather that power, some too afraid of the consequences, some thinking it just doesn’t affect them. Staying quiet is like poison slowly working itself into everyone’s system until you don’t notice that it affects how you think and behave, until it seems like the only good choice.
My grandpa was never one to keep quiet about injustice. But I had to, to survive here as a teenager from the outside looking at all these youths who won’t know before they leave how unormal their surroundings are and hoping, crossing my fingers hoping, they’ve not internalized one too many bad lessons. I’m all for having small communities that can give safe enviroments to grow up in, or so I thought. But I don’t know how this village turned into what it now is, while also pretending and promoting how inclusive they are and making safe homes for children. I haven’t seen this type of evil until I came here.
I do really love the calm of this place and wondered long if I was going to be one of those people who just … stayed. Or left, but never really left, returning every weekend and eventually settling down with one of the few jobs here once they’ve gotten their degree. This all might sound dramatic, but typing all this out it feels more of an understatement. Giving out any details feels dangerous because I’ve felt the backlash during my time here. But also whatever I write doesn’t convey the ice-cold emptiness I usually feel instead of rage, because there’s this nagging self-doubting comments of “what did you really expect by speaking up”? as I pass the person who’s hurt me the most, for the first time in two years on a narrow street a sunday evening, both staring straight ahead.
What I was afraid of didn’t happen; I was (kind of) healthy throughout the summer!What I didn’t expect was last year’s summer of nearly dying haunting me this much; every time I go in the shower I remember not being able to twist my body or raise my arms above my head because it feel like my chest would burst with pain, every time I go into the ocean I remember how cold the water felt last year and how I had to use minutes to go slowly into the water, because the cold naturally makes you breath deeper and shiver, which set of incredible amounts of pain, even on heavy pain medications. I was too proud when I was eventually back to jumping straight into the ocean.
Redesign graphics: no progress made, hehehe. I’ve tried, but when I’ve had the most free-time I didn’t have a computer because 1) first I didn’t have internet and 2) my last computer broke down. It’s still just excuses though, I just haven’t gotten around to it.
Get a routine to my writing: I’ve thought a lot about writing, but gotten no actual writing done. Which I feel surprisingly not bad for, it might’ve helped to talk to a published author a few years older than me that was like “I’ve gotten money to write this book already, and I’ve written a total of 5000 words this whole summer”. Aaahh, the stress that must be.
Get a routine to my day (because otherwise I fall apart): yes and no. At the start of summer I was really struggling because I’m that much of a distracted person who forgot to eat. Like honestly forgot, until the evening. I’ve gotten better with the eating and in general, I guess.
Pack for vacation and then moving: finally something I managed to do. It took more work than I would’ve guessed, but I managed to sort out all my belongings and am going to pack my final two bags for the move one of these days.
Start training: yes!!! although not how I expected. I thought I would sign up for a gym or a yoga class, but I’ve been very physically active outside and with family. I’ve got some football-loving-nearly-went-professional freaks of some brothers and cousins, mainly everyone but me, and I’m better than I expected?? for not playing for two years?? Trying to keep up with them was all I did during summers growing up though.
Summer TBR update
I’ve ordered the books, so I’ve been staring at them all summer, but I’ve barely read any of them it feels like. There was 11 books on my TBR and I’ve started two of them…
Currently kind of reading:
The best book of the summer: Lab Girl by Hope Jahren
Sometimes the summers aren’t as productive as I would like, but why the hell would I beat myself up for it, instead I’ve tried to look at the factors that contributed to that. In this case, I think I needed to relax way more than I thought, and I wasn’t aware how long it would take to get to that point of “I’m safe, I can let my guard down, I can take care of myself while not stressing about this and that”. But I did, so it’s been a great summer even if I wished I got to see more of my friends or catch up on more projects. It hasn’t by any means been a picture-perfect time with a bunch of exciting stories to share, but that’s okay. Hope your summer has been great too, and if not, that you’re at least not beating yourself up over it.
I’ve briefly talked about having mixed feelings about this summer. I don’t know how interesting this post is really, because it’s kind of a mix of bookish goals, survival plans and the fact that I view summer as my new year with resolutions and all. Share any thoughts or questions you might have, I rarely get offended.
I’m the person you want to have with you in a crisis. Since I was a kid, I just act super rationally and deal with it. But what I’m scared of happening this summer is me 1) feeling stuck in a place or around people that I feel is harming (see escape plans) 2) being away from all support through friends and daily routine, making me less equipped to handle bad things 3) dissociating completely because of family/pain/past trauma 4) ending up in the hospital like last year unprepared and completely losing my shit at my unfortune. So this post is mostly for me just having something to refer to solutions if these things do come true.
I live for the summer. I love the ocean, as you might’ve guessed by the strange name of this blog, and I just feel at peace getting to spend my time like I want, which is mostly swimming, recovering and reading. I’m in and out of hospitals and constantly catching up on school during the rest of the year, but summer has always been my time to breathe. I should be excited about this summer, but the things that has kept me going these past months is in comparison routine, stability and friends. Of not looking too far into the future and the worries that lies ahead. I’m going to need goals to not let everything I’ve got going slip out of my hands.
Redesign graphics on this blog. I started it with clear ideas and just never had the time to make it as aesthetically pleasing as I wanted. Just make a cohesive thing, how hard can it be. And better quality, because look at the image of this post.
Get a routine to my writing. I’m not claiming I can finish the first draft of my somewhat resembling a novel, but I want to go from writing a lot in a couple weeks and then taking break over the next month to a more healthy routine. I’m very all or nothing kind of person, but I can’t continue writing if it’s going to occupy all my mind and become so obsessive over it at the most annoying times. A weekend of that is fine, two weeks is too draining in addition to school. How do people freaking write?!
Actually get a routine and structure to my day in general. I love being spontaneous, and my summer is based on that, with little plans. The problem is that I fall apart all of a sudden without some kind of base routine. It’s connected with having chronic pain, where with a base routine I know how much energy daily things take. Also I shouldn’t eat X hours before doing a really fun thing, or I’ll be in more pain.
Pack for vacation and then moving. This will be a thing in late june and then again in august. I’m very excited and terrified at once. I currently live in my late grandparents house and my grandma was a light hoarder, meanign we’ve been throwing out things for the past five years, but there’s still more things to get rid of before we’re renting it out. And then my stuff has to be sorted to “going to uni”, “going to loft” and “going on vacay” as well.
Start training. Have I said that summer is like my new years? But honestly, I need to start training in some sense to recover. I’ve been in bad shape since being so ill last summer and I’m just starting to regain muscle. I need training as a stress-releaser for the fall, and starting to build that foundation from scratch is going to require a lot of work. Here’s my prediction: I’ll start with yoga just because it’s softer on the body, grow so bored of it in max the 2nd week, start scouting for martial arts gyms which will all be closed and start swimming a lot instead. My lungs are still too fucked up for straight up running, I think.
Catch up with my reading: both physics science books, writing advice and others. I know I add a lot of books on my TBR every bi-weekly update. Please know that they will not be read in the near future. My TBR is currently 434 books! Another goal is definitely to shorten my TBR, which I have a few methods I want to try through blog posts, but if you have any advice throw it my way. I’ll post a summer TBR soon, because there’s some books I just have to get through.
Etc: spend time with friends (who’s understandably working a lot), spending as much time in the ocean as possible,start learning Python programming (how? I don’t know yet).
Where am I going?
Summer town on the coast of Norway: It’s the place I grew up and then decided to move from, with good reasons.
The positives: constantly surrounded by water, lots of places to go out with a boat, a family cabin and lots of bathing spots, a couple friends.
The problems: my family there, who have always refused to accept that I’m chronically ill in any way (even as I came out of surgery last year) and I feel the need to confront them all for the sake of my also chronically ill little brother. It’s something that is a big goal this summer, just because I’m 20 years old and it’s the first time I don’t rely on them anymore. I just feel like sometimes you got to make decisions and mark what the criteria for continuing a good relationship with people need to be. I learned that when I was 16 years old refusing to pick up the phone out of a, now looking back, scarily mature moral decision. It sparked a little change in treatment. It’s time for a bigger one.
Denmark: the first escape plan (also will be there at least a week in july).
The positives: extremely nice aunt who lives there, extremely good food, quiet enough for lots of reading, baking and recovering. I’m going to buy a year’s worth of tea.
The negatives: the countryside, so no people around. Can’t spend the whole summer there, or I’ll permanently become a hermit, which is only bad because I won’t be able to go back into regularly society for a while and that clashes with plans to go to uni.
Amsterdam? My second escape plan. My third escape plan is tenting at the beach. I know where I’ll get the equipment already. It might seem like I’ve put too much thought into this, but at the same time it’s been very necessary before.
Relate to any of this? Are you doing something special this summer? (I have more free time than most, I know)
At blackwater pond by Mary Oliver audiobook (currently)
Added to my TBR:
Artificial generation by A. H. Haga
City of thieves by David Benioff
Solitaire by Alice Oseman – great author
The past and other things that should stay buried by Shaun David Hutchinson – great author
We are displaced by Malala Yousafzai – so anticipating reading this
Wilder girls by Rory Power
soft magic by Upile Chisala
Wicked saints by Emily A. Duncan
Skin deep (Legion #2) by Brandon Sanderson – great author and first book
All the lonely people by David Owen – recommended by one of my fav authors Alice Oseman
Army of none by Paul Scharre – recommended by Bill Gates
Recent book buys:
Trying to save money ! But I did buy City of thieves by David Benioff, because the kindle version was on sale.
Three things on my mind:
RIP Mary Oliver. I cried a few tears when I realized she had passed, after seeing so many of her poems resurfacing on social media at once. She became 83 years old and really was my favourite poet, so talented and a goal in life, living in a small sea-town in Massachusetts with her wife Molly until she died fourteen years ago. I tried to describe her poetry to a few friends a couple days before her death as: criticizing humans through wonderful pictures of nature. I’ve always admired her perspective, but also how she put her thoughts out in the world.
I’ve been doing so much better the past three weeks health and mood-wise. I’m amazed at how good I’ve been feeling and the change it makes, like problems is still thrown at me daily, but I have the energy to deal with it. Then I started losing my voice and coughing today, so we’ll see how long that lasts. (I’m going to be mad if it doesn’t last longer, honestly, and I think that’s quite okay of a feeling this time).
With this input of energy (sidenote: I’m studying electric currents for physics test in a couple days and I can’t stop sliding in terminology in the most casual conversations, then catching myself doing it and groan. This is a light example, honestly). With this input of energy I’m also doing a lot more things. Lots of studying and actually being close to on top of things. Seeing friends! Enjoying myself! Celebrating my birthday for the first time in three years! I’m pretty proud and greatful for that, seeing as I’ve been too ill to want to the past years. It was my 20th and I chose to do things my introverted ass wouldn’t normally, like drinking the whole day and evening. I have a weirdly high tolerance for someone who doesn’t drink, but inevitably blacked out for the first time. Three hours gone. I mean – wouldn’t necessarily recommend, but it was great with good friends around me and lots of dancing.
I’ve just spent almost two weeks in a cabin on an island, without internet for the most part. Here’s what I learned: I miss the internet only when it’s cloudy and I am bored and need to occupy myself. Which was like two days, because it was thirthy degrees celcius outside and I am not used to this heat. There was only blue sky and blue calm water, nothing I had to remember or worry about. Lots of bathing, catching and then releasing butterflies with my cousin, seeing family I hadn’t in a long time and nostalgia of being reunited with my older brothers. They also lured me up on some mountain in just slippers before they also managed to get lost, but that gave me nostalgia too so I can’t really complain much.
A couple days ago I also got my head back enough for the first time in over a month to start reading Oatbringer by Brandon Sanderson. When I read a hundred pages in one sitting the first time, at 2 am, I was ecstatic. I’m sure it sounds obvious, but I didn’t realize just how much morphine pain killers fucks with my head until I stopped them. I almost forgot baking lemon cake, fishing, driving boats at high speed and relaxing. It was a dream.
I hope this all sounds as lovely as it was, but then there’s the part where I just spent almost two weeks in a cabin on an island because one night three days into my stay I could not breathe. *brief pause as I notice a spider on my leg and kill it with my hands, I want credit for that* Anyway, I woke up and noticed something was wrong, an hour later I could not breathe, the tightness in my chest didn’t stop. I was just hospitalized for a lung infection and gallbladder surgery, not to forget I had misplaced my glasses, so I took a weird choice – woke up no one and wandered out of the cabin to get some fresh air. With the phone camera in front of me I then saw the shrubs move and a badger walk out, a distance away from me. I’ve met these badgers before, they are very cute and will also bite your leg until it hears a crack, so I ran for my life. Which looks more like walking slowly, hunched over, when you already can’t breathe.
So the day after I spent eight hours in emergency rooms and then three awful days in the third hospital of the month. The first hospital visit had been a ten days stay on the other side of the country, where I live, the second one for my minor gallbladder surgery I had just days before. This third hospital I had been to before, but I was nowhere near prepared for how awful it would be. I was in less pain than before. The people I shared room with however were very sick, and looking back there’s no way they got enough pain treatment.
One old lady barely stopped crying the twentyfour hours I was with her, both in pain and because she didn’t know where she was. She kept asking me to help her, confusing me with a nurse because of my young age and I couldn’t get up from my bed. That was the first time I lost it completely and broke down crying. Another lady was just bones, she got worse until the final morning she was swatting the nurses hands away, begging and yelling for them to let her just die, why couldn’t they let her just die. The nurses were nice to me, but acted like this was okay. Maybe it was normal to them, but in no way was that okay. Having been stuck unmoving in another hospital bed weeks earlier, waking up crying from pain that lasted hours, even with morphine, something in me could relate too much. I felt so bad for them, and there was nothing I could do. And also at this point, my situation wasn’t getting better either. So I broke down for a second time. I did not stop crying for hours until I had gotten out of that hospital, feeling mentally much worse than when I arrived. They hopefully got rid of my infection though. Don’t think it was worth it.
I also had to go back for a colonoscopy (google it), where you have to take laxatives which was a minor nightmare as they didn’t work properly. No inflammation in my intestines this time, which means my ulcerative colitis isn’t flaring on top of everything else so that’s some good luck.
I don’t know if one should focus on the good or the bad. On the fact that I still barely can’t walk some evenings because the hospitals never had time or resources to figure out why my joints are swelling, or that I cannot laugh without wheezing in pain. At least I notice very much how often I have laughed these days. But last week I could finally be in the ocean without my body hurting, two days later I could submerge myself in water completely without lungs burning, a day later I could swim! It sucks to be in pain, to so much need a break from illness and having to fight to only halfway get there. This last year, I could probably sit down and count the times I’ve cried. Until now, because I don’t seem to be done no matter how many lovely days I fight to put between me and those hospital stays.
I’ll be back with book reviews soon, I’m so excited to be reading again.
Also I can’t leave my books at my dad’s house, they won’t survive long without rain damage –