Tuesday, November 17, 2015


I am so full of disgust that I can't even write.
Of course I am mad at the doctor for refusing to treat me. Mad but not entirely surprised, because hasn't this been the theme of the entire course of my disease? Haven't I always been made to beg, hasn't being chronically sick and riddled with pain stripped me of all dignity?
Of course I am mad at him, but I am even angrier at myself for sitting there and taking it. For not storming out of his office when I needed to. I am angry that I let him see my pain, that I came to him with a tiny bubble of hope in my hands, and shed tears when he ruthlessly popped it, but still shook his hand on my way out.
My mother raised me to be polite, and I think she was wrong. I tip stylists for bad haircuts. I thank customer service representatives for their time when they've just wasted mine. And now I'm letting doctors kill me with their carelessness.
And I fucking shook his hand.