It's Strange ...
When I was sick the first time - I'd removed the chip without knowing what it was or could be doing to or for me, and even though I felt perfectly fine, I was dying. My nosebleeds were my only symptom. This time, it was blinding migraines which eventually turned into bloody noses.
Since removing the chip on Monday, my energy levels have increased ten-fold (after the six hour nap I took when we came home from the hospital). But so have my nosebleeds.
I'm a doctor. I specialize in strange, bizarre, out-of-this-world medicine. I'm on staff not because of my bedside manner but because in the end, I am usually right about what is killing my patients. It isn't a bone bruise, it's a tumor. It's a wasting disease that can in fact be cured through the use of stem cells. Most of my time is spent doing research and talking to other doctors. And I know what I'm doing not because I spent fifteen years in medical school studying this stuff but because I spent nine years performing autopsies on the most bizarre and awful corpses anyone can comprehend. My own experiences plus basic medical knowledge leads me to understand that the chip in my neck was in fact controlling my health. It wasn't just a tracking device, but something that could trigger hormonal and other responses in my body. Possibly even a control of my immune system.
I am starting to believe that this time, the chip was not so much controlling my cancer but breaking down and as a result, my immune system broke down, and the cancer, which had only been lying dormant in my system, found something to attack. The chip was never meant to stay in my body as long as it did. It was supposed to be discovered and my cancer was supposed to kill me. When it didn't, when Mulder found the replacement chip, when I got better, they tried to find other ways to kill me.
How easy it would have been for them if my pregnancy had been just tragic enough that both mother and child were "lost" in delivery. My remains would have been burned and scattered to the winds while William would have been raised by government chosen parents devoted not to love and care, but testing and training for a life only my nightmares comprehend.
Mulder and I were never intended figures in this conspiracy. We happened to be in the right place to discover all the wrong information.
But all of this knowledge and understanding does little to change my prognosis. Without sounding too fatalistic, there is a strong, strong chance that I am going to die. Without the chip to control whatever it controlled last time, the cancer will grow at an alarming rate. There is no surgical option. Even with advancements in treatments in the last ten years, the outlook is grim. The testing that was done on me gave me this. They pumped me full of radiation and they harvested my ova (not to mention the other horrific things they did) and I am faced with the cold, hard truth that the tests they performed were meant to kill me. Baby farming. Ova harvesting. Monsters out of science fiction who exist here, in the world in which I live. Truths so far removed from most people's understanding of reality that to speak them out loud is to offer them a sense of ridiculousness. After all, it is so easy to believe, even if our government was in the business of doing this sort of thing, the technology needed is too far advanced. Anyway, what makes you think that you're so special.
Sorry, bub. It's cold, hard, awful fact.
So here I sit, nursing a cup of coffee and feeling the world come alive. I work today. If I learned anything the last time, it's the work is one of the few things that keeps me sane. And, if I am finally succumb to what they wanted me to succumb to, then I will do it caring for my patients while I continue my search for the truth. I know what to expect on Friday, when they do the second round of tests before they start pumping me full of chemicals. I know what I'm going to see. I know what my blood tests will reveal.
I've been through this before ...
Since removing the chip on Monday, my energy levels have increased ten-fold (after the six hour nap I took when we came home from the hospital). But so have my nosebleeds.
I'm a doctor. I specialize in strange, bizarre, out-of-this-world medicine. I'm on staff not because of my bedside manner but because in the end, I am usually right about what is killing my patients. It isn't a bone bruise, it's a tumor. It's a wasting disease that can in fact be cured through the use of stem cells. Most of my time is spent doing research and talking to other doctors. And I know what I'm doing not because I spent fifteen years in medical school studying this stuff but because I spent nine years performing autopsies on the most bizarre and awful corpses anyone can comprehend. My own experiences plus basic medical knowledge leads me to understand that the chip in my neck was in fact controlling my health. It wasn't just a tracking device, but something that could trigger hormonal and other responses in my body. Possibly even a control of my immune system.
I am starting to believe that this time, the chip was not so much controlling my cancer but breaking down and as a result, my immune system broke down, and the cancer, which had only been lying dormant in my system, found something to attack. The chip was never meant to stay in my body as long as it did. It was supposed to be discovered and my cancer was supposed to kill me. When it didn't, when Mulder found the replacement chip, when I got better, they tried to find other ways to kill me.
How easy it would have been for them if my pregnancy had been just tragic enough that both mother and child were "lost" in delivery. My remains would have been burned and scattered to the winds while William would have been raised by government chosen parents devoted not to love and care, but testing and training for a life only my nightmares comprehend.
Mulder and I were never intended figures in this conspiracy. We happened to be in the right place to discover all the wrong information.
But all of this knowledge and understanding does little to change my prognosis. Without sounding too fatalistic, there is a strong, strong chance that I am going to die. Without the chip to control whatever it controlled last time, the cancer will grow at an alarming rate. There is no surgical option. Even with advancements in treatments in the last ten years, the outlook is grim. The testing that was done on me gave me this. They pumped me full of radiation and they harvested my ova (not to mention the other horrific things they did) and I am faced with the cold, hard truth that the tests they performed were meant to kill me. Baby farming. Ova harvesting. Monsters out of science fiction who exist here, in the world in which I live. Truths so far removed from most people's understanding of reality that to speak them out loud is to offer them a sense of ridiculousness. After all, it is so easy to believe, even if our government was in the business of doing this sort of thing, the technology needed is too far advanced. Anyway, what makes you think that you're so special.
Sorry, bub. It's cold, hard, awful fact.
So here I sit, nursing a cup of coffee and feeling the world come alive. I work today. If I learned anything the last time, it's the work is one of the few things that keeps me sane. And, if I am finally succumb to what they wanted me to succumb to, then I will do it caring for my patients while I continue my search for the truth. I know what to expect on Friday, when they do the second round of tests before they start pumping me full of chemicals. I know what I'm going to see. I know what my blood tests will reveal.
I've been through this before ...