I live my life in six-week intervals. Every couple of months, a visit to the hospital brings injections into my veins. I allow these drugs to creep.
The supposed antidote seeps. Into my mixed-up body, where up is sideways and down is dead, the chronic dripping feeds me. Dripping in bags of fluid and mind-numbingly expensive pharmaceuticals.
The blind prick of a needle threads a slender tube into the crook of my arm. I watch the wall as the nurses make small talk as if these chemicals were Kool-Aid.Read more on themighty.com