1 Degree

It’s one degrees Fahrenheit, not Celsius, I never learned Celsius. I went to public school in America and in my adult life never bothered to learn. I even had to ‘Google’ how to spell Fahrenheit. I never need to spell Fahrenheit. It sounds germen but I think the Germans use Celsius, that was another thing I never bothered to learn, I had to Google it, I didn’t google it.

            Google, a verb, to search something on the search engine Google. Google helps people find answers, there is no reason for ignorance in the era of search engines. People don’t remember, I don’t remember, I don’t need to, I can Google it.

            I use Google weather on my phone and it tells me its 1 Degrees Fahrenheit. The normal dull ache in my bones worsens to a searing pain as I struggle to get up out of bed. Not struggle like “I need my coffee in the morning or I’m a monster hahaha” I mean struggle like physically difficult to stand. I pour my neatly sorted pile of pills into the cup of my hand, I slam my hand against my mouth as the pills shoot into the back of my throat. I need them to be in my blood stream now but they won’t. I type next to a frozen window, cold medicine pumping into my bloodstream, traveling through my body like tree roots down into the earth. I have a pill for everything, It costs thousands of dollars to keep me alive and the tax payers pay it. Most wouldn’t, I think most would be happy to let sick people die as long as they did so outside their field of view.

I sway back and forth in my chair, the gentle movement of the muscles seems add some relief to my tortured spine.  Inside my body it is 100 degrees Fahrenheit and outside it is only 1.

            People with harder jobs than mine are going to work at earlier times than I do. I tell myself that they don’t have the pain I have, I hope its true because it makes me feel less shitty about succumbing to pain.

            There is a phrase in my head that I tell myself when it comes to work. “People can tell you they are dependable, but it takes actions to prove it”. This phrase is a double edged sword, it reminds me to prove my value but also is daunting when I am unable. I don’t remember where this phrase came from, it feels like something my dad said when I first started working, but it could just as easily been something my brother said or something I made up entirely based on my own experiences. This sentence has followed me longer than I can remember and pushed me even when I didn’t know it was there.

            One of my first jobs I pushed myself too hard, I gave the company all of my energy to prove I could be part of a team and in the end they fired me as soon as I was too sick to work. I worked myself to sickness and they threw me away. Years later I am starting a job and have hope again for the first time and yet I can’t bring myself to go. Pain and anxiety surge through me, fighting against my medicine, the winter winds blow through and creatures die from exposure.

            I never learned how to behave as an adult, I just watched my dad and made the rest of as I went. He never had illnesses like I do, but I try to be dependable anyway, with my actions. You can’t google how to be a good human or how to see the balance between working hard and over working. They don’t teach these things in school, they teach advanced math that no one remembers and history that I only remember because some of it was interesting.

Some days life is hard and its 1 degree outside.

So Sick

I’m so sick of hearing the same songs on the radio, repetitive thoughts. They are just repetitive words and tunes that play over and over on an endless loop. I wish I could just turn off the radio. The radio keeps playing, without an off button, without end. I sit and clutch my head. I sit and clutch my radio as it spews out thoughts. As it spews out music into the air constantly. Thoughts. Songs I don’t want to hear echo out of the radio constantly. Some make me remember things I’d be better off forgetting, some torment me with things I already know. Songs. Thoughts. Radio always playing. Why can’t I shut off my radio? One time I threw a bottle at it and the radio stopped for a minute, but just when I thought it was off, the radio came back on.

 

            My voice echoes out of my radio, taunting me as I go through life. For every helpful suggestion there are equal parts pain and annoyance. Sometimes the radio is a dull hum and I can barely hear it, sometimes its blaring so loud that I can’t hear the voices of my friends or family.

 

            I’m so sick of the radio, why can’t I turn off the radio?

Day in the life

            Pain boils over, every inch of his body screams out for the end of it all, for sweet eternal sleep that will stop they wretched struggle of being alive. His body shook as his limbs twisted and writhed. A lights and sound rush past him, strange voices are heard. Then he feels piercing pain in his arm. He winces but then feels a flood of calmness wash over his body. Calm and relaxation in liquid form rushes through his veins. Everything becomes peaceful and the world goes dark. This is not the first time he has had such an experience and it wont be the last time. His name is Joe and he is nine years old.

            Joe was born with illness and will live the rest of his life with it. Pain, followed by surgery or long hospital visits then weeks of recovery. Joe thinks about his father’s old car. His dad had the car for so long it was mostly made out of spare parts. Joe feels like that car. Always breaking down and made of spare parts. He wasn’t born lucky enough to have a powerful engine or a dent resistant frame, Joe feels more like a beat up old sedan. This nine year old feels more aches and pains and has a longer medical history than his parents and rivals his grandparents.

            Many found it impressive that a child could handle such a huge burden and they couldn’t even grasp how he dealt with the pain. Joe couldn’t understand or grasp what it felt like to not be in pain. This was life and he knew no other way of being.

            In the weeks of recovery that followed a big flare up, Joe had a lot of free time at home, more than a normal child would have. He would spend hours in his room and think or sometimes read his little books. But this favorite thing was playing video games.

            He heard a large round man acting important and saying bad things about video games. “They corrupt today’s youth” and “all games are violent and lead to more violence”. Joe didn’t understand most of this. The games he played were wonderful. One afternoon he saved the world, or at least made a lot of progress toward saving the world. “Saving the world is a big job to do all before dinner” Joe said to his parents one evening during dinner when asked about his games.

            His games let him fly airplanes and drive fast cars. He could help people and find magical gems. He beat up bad guys, solved puzzles and one time built a city. Some games even let him hang out with his favorite super heroes from the comics. Video games were pure joy to him. In a world where a nine year old is fighting against his own body because of disease and illness sometimes it was nice to leave and visit a different world. A world where the rules were fair and everyone had a chance if they tried hard enough. A world where you were important and powerful and evil didn’t win.

            Joe grew up playing games. They gave him hope and set in his mind a subconscious will to fight. He began to see his illness like the evil wizard of one of his games. A thing that made people sad that he could fight against. Something that could be beaten and lead him to a happily ever after.

            Years passed and there was always some fool who had a problem with video games, but luckily the games stayed and Joe had another world to escape to and a fight he always felt like he could win.

Update!

Due to illness i missed Wednesday's post. I will try to make sure i post this coming week, but if i don't you know why.

I will try to get things back up and running as soon as i can. Hopefully i will be able to share many more exciting stories with you all soon enough.

In the meantime, think about what kind of story you enjoy. have a favorite time period or type of fiction, let me know and i will try to make a story about it. 

Sick

Today I am posting late and this week you all will be without a story. I've been terribly sick. my head is so congested I can barely think, let alone write. So I leave you all with my apologies and a brief expression of how I am feeling.

  Aches and pains, cough, sneezing, sore throat, runny nose, congestion. my medicine claims to help me with it all. with excitement I take the pills and wait. The cold shakes my body and distorts my mind, my medicine makes me delirious and I hum softly to myself, staring at a tv that is not turned on. the symptoms are lessened, but not cured. the sickness gets bearable, but it wont last. "take ever 6 hours as symptoms persist" I continue to consume the pills. My body feels better but my mind feels weak. I am so tired all the time. I am too tired to be awake, but can't sleep because of my cough and stuffy nose. like a ghoul I clutch a tissue permanently in my hand. I am one of the diseased, one of the infected. I hear stories of who else is sick, I smile, but dont care. their pain doesn't sooth my dry irritated nose or my scorching sore throat. Their coughing doesn't ease my own. So I lay on the couch, caught between dreams and reality, a useless lump watching tv that may or may not even be on.