Four plus Four equals Eight
Four days of physical and psychological torture. Four days of atrocious painful episodes. Four days of breathing through a breathing device. Four days without getting any sleep. Four days without eating decent food. Four days in the ER.
Then I was transferred to another unit for another four long, dreadful days. Four days of pricking sessions at 5 in the morning. Four days of eating the same friggin’ food. Four days of ingesting antibiotics. I missed a lot of important things. I missed an important football game. Chargers-Patriots. I missed the 4-hour premiere of 24. I missed the return of Jack Bauer. I also missed the return of the Winchester brothers. I fucked up my last week of vacations. Now my parents are taking more precautions than ever to keep me out of the hospital. You have to do this and that, Make sure you do this and that, Don’t do this and that, You have to remember that you’re this and that, Don’t touch this, it’s full of microbes... I have to be careful with a lot of things. To be honest, all of this shit is suffocating. Dude, I want to live.
My dad said I have to pray and be strong. What the fuck, dad. I don’t pray. Maybe I used to pray when I was little (because I was a naïve little brat and thought that jesus was some sort of fairy tale thingy that really existed), but now I’m 19 years old. I don’t believe in Jesus/God/Nonsense anymore. It’s not fucking Jesus/God/Nonsense that will help me because they don’t exist. I’m tired of this religious bugger. I KNOW that I have to be strong. I AM strong. I’ve been battling with this fucking disease since I was born so, dad, shut the fuck up with your “you have to be strong”. I'm sorry papi if I'm rude, but it's true. If I weren’t strong, I would have given up. I didn’t give up. I went on. I went on even when I felt like giving up. I went on even if it was hard. I went on. I went on.
So, yeah. I spent a total of eight days at the hospital. I came back yesterday. Today is the last day before school.
Then I was transferred to another unit for another four long, dreadful days. Four days of pricking sessions at 5 in the morning. Four days of eating the same friggin’ food. Four days of ingesting antibiotics. I missed a lot of important things. I missed an important football game. Chargers-Patriots. I missed the 4-hour premiere of 24. I missed the return of Jack Bauer. I also missed the return of the Winchester brothers. I fucked up my last week of vacations. Now my parents are taking more precautions than ever to keep me out of the hospital. You have to do this and that, Make sure you do this and that, Don’t do this and that, You have to remember that you’re this and that, Don’t touch this, it’s full of microbes... I have to be careful with a lot of things. To be honest, all of this shit is suffocating. Dude, I want to live.
My dad said I have to pray and be strong. What the fuck, dad. I don’t pray. Maybe I used to pray when I was little (because I was a naïve little brat and thought that jesus was some sort of fairy tale thingy that really existed), but now I’m 19 years old. I don’t believe in Jesus/God/Nonsense anymore. It’s not fucking Jesus/God/Nonsense that will help me because they don’t exist. I’m tired of this religious bugger. I KNOW that I have to be strong. I AM strong. I’ve been battling with this fucking disease since I was born so, dad, shut the fuck up with your “you have to be strong”. I'm sorry papi if I'm rude, but it's true. If I weren’t strong, I would have given up. I didn’t give up. I went on. I went on even when I felt like giving up. I went on even if it was hard. I went on. I went on.
So, yeah. I spent a total of eight days at the hospital. I came back yesterday. Today is the last day before school.