<food poisoning in Mumbai 15th Dec>
Being sick
I think I've written about this before, this helplessness wretched state by which you know that your body has been invaded, and is not captive by an insidious malignant foreign force that is in you so much that it is you. And you rail and rail against losing that last shred of self control - but the poison spreads, and dictates your consumption, expulsion, the very climate of your being. The worse thing about being sick is not having any assurance that you will get better. In desperation, the primary urge to grab hold of a light at the end of the tunnel can drive people to do crazy things. In that place, the patient is (hopefully) no fool, and knows that the sick cells will not/cannot disappear overnight. Healing takes time, yes; they merely want to know that everything is going to be ok. To have someone to hold them and stroke their hair and speak in a still small voice, that they love them. I want to be at home, with my mum. It makes the pain so much more bearable - instead of this dim room where my friends care but to a point, or don't know how to comfort me. Perhaps they don't even think that I need it. Am I asking for sympathy? Not exactly, love goes beyond, to real empathy, to holding your hand and standing right by you till the end. Can I be that friend- that certain person.
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