RipplesOctober 10, 2009
I would not want me as my patient. I fight illness until it pushes down on me like a giant hand, holding me under the water. I thrash my legs and arms, trying to regain my rightful control. I have been known to give in, but only in a grudging, grumbling way. I have faith that I will slip free on the other side, but it’s faith as thin as a cough, and as rasped. When pressed, I will always choose ripples over stillness.