Six Months to Live

It was my first year of medical residency. My brain was stuffed with all of the technical information to wear the doctor’s white coat; however, I lacked the knowledge born of experience. And I knew it. He was a patient, kind man, somewhere in his 50s. His skin was yellowed with jaundice; his belly swollen…

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The Art of Being Fine

Making Room for the Villain The radiologist pointed, “Right there, see the dark spot? I don’t like what I’m seeing.”  There it was, right of center on the screen, nestled in bright white digital breast tissue on the screen. The spot was dark and sinister, like a burn hole on a white couch. Its’ edges…

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Small Victories

There are several boundaries and battle grounds that my mind does not cooperate with on command as it once did!!  Information “plays hide and seek” in my brain, and is not controlled solely by my will – the result of a stroke in my brain. Some “pieces” are just gone, some occasionally re-appear, some are definitely…

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Spared

Under fluorescent lights, my doctor gently massages my breast tissue as I lie on a metal cot. Two months ago, I started having pain in my breasts. I put it off, thinking it was due to holding plank postures in my new cardio-yoga routine. “But you need to get a mammogram,” my mother urged. “You…

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My Monster

For many years, I believed the lie that the only way of coping with the parasitic fears and deep pain in my life was to bring injury to my body. I still remember the young teenage girl standing in front of a dressing room mirror, fighting back tears and thinking this was her only option.…

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Foodie

I am a foodie—and, I’m very ambivalent about that. I both love and excoriate myself for that. My food war is facilitated by my having dissociative identity disorder (DID). If you’re unfamiliar, DID is a survival mechanism of the mind in the face of great trauma. Imagine, if you will, the natural conflicting opinions of…

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Time Served

He died without ever paying his debt. Others in our family speak fondly of him even naming their children after him. I have a totally different memory of the man. I was always afraid of him. He was a big, gruff, crude, loud bully who shoved his weight around in every environment he was ever…

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Fault Lines

I think each person has a fault line. A crack-line under the skin. Maybe you remember the day it appeared to you, and it became visible to others. Perhaps it shows itself after an unexpected event. Like a death. Or a diagnosis, for example. I observe your eyes glossing over when I try to explain…

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Bombarded

I have been feeling bombarded. The news feed on my phone compounded with radio and television news shows have left me penned in with too much to bear. It’s weighed me down and made me hopeless and anxious.  The noise has caused me to feel anger, agitation and annoyance. It’s taken down the best part…

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