Tuesday, December 13, 2011

within each 'fine'

Dad always has to drive me to my doctor appts, & one month at my normal monthly neurologist appt, he said 'I know they're being polite, but I wonder why the nurses taking the patients back ask how they are-so many people here are so sick & miserable'. He had been witness to my silent, sobbing, iPod fogged meltdowns enough to know what a person's pain center in their brain can be so wrong in what it tells the body to interpret as pain. Tomorrow will be one of those days, my lying 'I'm fine', & the tears filling my lap as I bury my head & have music to save me with noise reducing headphones & gorgeous music.

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