I read Elie Wiesel's Night this summer. I read it on the beach in Hawaii -- on that gorgeous, perfect, beach. I was looking for the answer to a question that the book really doesn't address. It was an odd choice for a summer read. It was an odd choice for that perfect, breezy, beach.
Here's what I wanted to know, which the book doesn't address: What's it like to be Elie Wiesel, and to have seen living babies thrown into a furnace, and to hear people complain about the price of gas?
I don't want to complain about the price of gas.
I'm afraid.
I'm not much of a scairdy kinda person. I can disassociate from most of it -- ignore it, or look at it, depending on my relationship to boo duh in the moment.
But I received the results of my ct scan today, and the results weren't good. Chemotherapy can still work... things can get better...
But for right now? I'm feeling pretty fucked. And I don't like it. And that's about all I can say about that.
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2 comments:
I'm sorry. "Fucked" seems to be the state of things at the moment here too. Here's hoping things improve soon (there and here), if only for a while, to PROVE that things can get better. It's so easy to forget when it goes on, and on, and on...
martha!
we're back online all the time again, after a terrible couple of tech-unfriendly months. i've just been reading all that i've missed in the past eight weeks of not reading your blog. just wanted to touch base with you and say hi.
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