At my last doctor’s visit, I said, When I am in so much physical pain, I tend to get low. I get very depressed.
She said, I’m sure not as bad as some.
My doctor thinks I’m her most optimistic patient. She said this the day she diagnosed me with fibromyalgia.
I bring this up because I am sick in bed with a terrible cold and I am again thinking about my body. I can’t remember the last time I felt healthy. I mean, what I used to think of as healthy. The kind of healthy you take for granted, that I took for granted.
It’s true that I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. It’s also true that being ill is why I find it necessary to curate a reading series. When I’m feeling somewhat okay, I organize these events. When I’m feeling less than okay, I still organize these events, except from bed in between naps.
At a reading in Echo Park, my friend said, Let me get this straight. You’re inside all day and when you leave the house, it looks like this?
I looked at the people gathered on the back patio and they looked content and warm underneath the patio lights.
Yes, I said and smiled. I guess that’s right.
Curating a reading series and editing on Saturdays feels similar to me. I always thought of The Rumpus not as magazine but a community filled with people who tell me stories I love and long to hear.
A few months ago, when my whole body would ache from pain that emanated from deep, deep within my muscles, I would concentrate on my right pinky toe. There was no pain in my right pinky toe. About a month ago, I’d get a half-hour of relief. I’d feel okay. This month, I’ve gotten one or two days of feeling okay.
I am trying to remind myself that there are times when I am not fatigued and not in pain, that though they happen in small amounts, they do seem to be increasing. I tell myself that maybe one day I won’t be ill.