Friday, December 4, 2009

Thursday. A specialist told me my jaw may never open beyond what it does right now. No more sex or food for Jason; at least not to the same degree of pleasure; not to the same degree of joy. My simple pleasures have been stolen from me; perhaps forever. I'm very afraid. I'm very afraid. I'm very afraid. Laughter and singing and yawning or coughing - the simple fun of sneezing hurts me now; tires me. I can't imagine lasting that long in such a state, but perhaps I'm stronger than even I know? Or perhaps I'm not. We shall see.

I'm grateful for my book; my friends and family; for Doctor Who and Glee and Caprica. All of the things that distract me from my pain.

"The sweet sound of suffering."

I've shed more tears in the last 3 months, then in the last several years combined. Seriously. I think I've cried every day this week. Sometimes, openly, in front of Mark or Michael, and other times, very alone in the dark of my room. Just 4 months ago I think I wondered if I'd ever shed tears again in my life; I knew sadness and the occasional misting of the eyes...but tears were like some forgotten poetry that would never come when I called...never to return, until they did. Now they refuse to leave, but I'm grateful for them as well. Tears are magic.

I wish I could get in touch with Mollie. I'd tell her to track down this Abarat book; the first of 5, with only 2 currently available. This doesn't trouble me. I see myself rereading this one a year or two from now. And picking up the 2nd volume the next time I'm at the book store.

   posted by Bald Jason at 09:37 AM
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