I thought that the worst part was not knowing. That once the doctors figured out what was wrong with me things would somehow go back to normal. But they haven't. Actually I'm beginning to realize that things never will be normal again. The lump on my breast still sits there, an alien on my own body. I do what I can to ignore it. What disturbs me most is that sometimes I can. As if this thing has become a part of me now.
I try to stick to my IBS diet, but it's even harder than I thought it would be. And I when I do break it the symptoms are even worse. I went out with my family for pizza one night and came down with a serious case of diarrhea halfway through the ride home. I shit my pants before I could get to a bathroom.
And there are the dreams. I can't get that Halloween out of my head. I still hear Walter's screaming and can see his chemical burned body every time I close my eyes. The itching comes and goes. It feels like there is something under my skin. I scratch as hard as I can but the only thing that does is make my skin irritated. Sometimes I wonder if I'm going to give myself wounds like he did.
This is my life now. A girl with chronic illness and minor trauma. Broken, ill. And people keep on saying that it's going to be ok.
It's not going to be ok.
It never will be.