May 23, 2009

Events of the Past While (Part 1)

I was five years old the first time I had pneumonia. Every opening in my body was clogged and oozing. Being only five, I wondered if this was what dying felt like. But it was OK, because I knew that I'd be up and running around again in another week or so.

I guess the reason this time was different is that I know that it might not all turn out OK. My own body was rebelling against me; food, and sometimes even drink, I would vomit back up; walking was out of the question; hacking coughs that felt like I might cough up my very lung tissue shook me; I was lucky to get four hours of sleep in a day.

Something about seeing blood come up from the respiratory tract scared me. Blood was not supposed to be there. It is not natural.

Two weeks into the illness, I'd lost over 10 pounds. All I could do was stare at the ceiling, waiting for the next rib-cracking cough. I began to wonder what I was waiting for- recovery or death. Though I knew many people pull through this, I wanted to give up. There is no reason I should endure this just to have more similar trials in the future. My resolution to live was dimming rapidly.

I think I hallucinated (either that or extremely vivid dreams) a few times in there. I saw Eva, and, although I tried desperately to make contact, she refused to speak with or look at me. I cried, for she was here after so much time, but still so far away.

This went on for about another week before I started to show signs of recovery. Food started to go down; I could wobble short distances.

I see someone I never wanted to see again in the mirror. She's gaunt, well below normal weight. Grey-tinged eyes stare at me, blank and hollow. Welcome back, Mariah, she almost seems to say. I've been waiting silently all this time for you to return.

And then I realize she is me, and I am gone. And I know I won't come back. If I wasn't so weak, I would have smashed the mirror into a million sharp pieces and drove them like nails into my body. Instead, I sit and weep. I don't know why really, for I am numb once again. I am, in all but biology, dead.

This is a state I used to know well, but have grown slightly out of touch with.


  1. I don't know what to say. I don't know what I can say, but I'm here, I'm reading and I'm thinking about you. You can come back from this though, though I'm sure it doesn't feel like it right now. Don't go back there.

  2. i don't really know what to say either, apart from that I don't want you to give up...I've read every post here, and I remember you telling your story on the MR forums what must be years ago now...I think you're a strong person though you probably won't believe me. I know you've prbably heard it al before, but believe me, things change, they really do...I don't know what else to say but please, don't give up. I just wanted you to know that I believe in you and you're not alone.

  3. hello mariah, i went through my blog and i saw some of your comments which were all brief but meant enough to me and i just want you to know that i don't know you and i never will but it doesn't mean that the hope that i have for you to get better isn't genuine. i don't have to know you to feel this way. there are people in your life (i would think) and people here online who care for you and i daresay, some even look to you as a symbol of strength. i for one, do.

    live on, mariah.

  4. I'm so sorry.

    I really am having a hard time even getting out of bed right now.

    Thanks for all the well-wishes.

  5. Hey, sorry things are still so rough for you, still sending you well-wishes and hope things get better soon. If you want to talk or anything, leave me a comment on my blog k. Take care.