Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Bullet Proof - (I Wish I Was)

"Limb by limb, tooth by tooth
Tearing up inside of me
Every day, every hour
I wish that I was bullet proof"

Just when you think.

Life is funny.  Just when you think it's all good, just when there seems to be nothing in front of you but promise and wonder, life pulls the rug out from under your feet.  Sometimes is a big pull, sometimes a little one, but it's never quite clear sailing, is it?

And at those moments, when the tears are welling up in your eyes and that weird bubble is filling up from your stomach to your chest, you wish you were a stronger person - more easily able to take the next hurt, chew it up and swallow it back down.

Bullet Proof.

"Wax me, mould me
Heat the pins and stab them in
You have turned me into this
Just wish that it was bullet proof"

This hurt is an old one re-surfacing.

Well not old, rather recurring.  That's the word they use to describe her form of cancer.  Recurring.  Not as bad as the other type, but it keeps coming back.  And even when you fight it, and seem to be beating it, there are always the dreaded "complications".  Organs that don't work right, brittle ribs that break from coughing.  Damage done because you spend months at a time throwing up nonstop.

And me, in the dark, finding out days, weeks later.  Never exactly knowing how bad it is.  because she won't talk about it.  "Everything's good."  Always good.  Wonderful.

Life's a bowl of freaking peaches.

So she might need an operation now, one which she might not be able to survive. Body isn't that strong, body loses blood very easily. 

If you or me had this operation we'd probably be out of the hospital the next day.

And good friend that I am, all I can do is worry.  Or something even less useful, like tell her I don't like her boyfriend.

Some friend.

And through it all is the feeling that all that optimism I have, how everything looks brighter now, is all just an illusion.  Life isn't a big happy party.  It's filled with both good and bad.  Never a clear road.  Always a worry, a pressure, a sickness a death.Always something to stab at us making sharp little holes.

Oh to be bullet proof.

1 comment:

  1. *hugs*

    Sending positive vibes that the surgery (or whatever other measure needed) worked well and that Tova recovers!