DAY +5

Some scribblings on napkin corners, receipts and random scraps of paper.
Between DAYS -2 and +4:

Her primary goal in life is for the Pain to go away. Nothing more, nothing less. But since that isn't an option, Pain makes her prioritize. It makes her not want to talk. Every breath of air can be used more wisely. It makes her not give a fuck. It makes her choose sleep above everything else. Pain ridicules her waif-like mind. It makes death appealing. Pain stretches out its wiry long limbs and crawls into every far-out corner of her body and contaminates her as a whole. It limits her mindset. She loses the big picture. She loses her shit. She sees herself as an extension of her pain. Her body a mere vessel in a state of emergency. A broken lump of nauseous flesh and bone.


And then ---


the Pain goes away. Just as quickly as it came. She is awoken by a ray of sun beaming to her eyes. And all is well. Breathing is easier. She's a five-day old stem cell transplant survivor with no other plans except to exist.

P.S. Oxycodone is a wonderful medication.