Showing posts with label life in hell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life in hell. Show all posts

Sunday, October 9, 2011

I'm not sure how to get anything done around here

when there are episodes to watch of Breaking Bad 





and

phrases like this to read via The Dishwasher's Tears:

"But life, man, it fucking asserts itself."


I can assert that baking cupcakes, re-learning the table of elements with your fifth grader, dropping off your teenager at a ballpark, not able to watch him play the game, making sure your dog is getting his bloody poop medicine and peeling your sixteen year old off the floor after a seizure is life asserting itself and quite possibly getting the upper hand.

Friday, November 19, 2010

Life in Hell



Remember the Life in Hell comics by Matt Groenig? I loved them and had forgotten about them until I decided that my post for this morning was going to be titled "Life in Hell." I went online looking for some sort of ancient painting of Dante's Hell but then found Groenig. I spent a good amount of time going through the many hilarious drawings and then I finally decided on the one I've posted above.

Why?

The black shadowed rabbit is, of course, me. The little rabbit is the nurse who came yesterday to administer Sophie's fourth treatment of IvIg. The nurse arrived on time and was a very kind lady but I won't belabor why mistakes were made. Suffice it to say that veins were punctured five times and no needle found a home. The large, shadowed rabbit called a stop during the fifth poke and demanded that the treatment be tried again tomorrow. That means tomorrow and Saturday because they're given over two days. Five hour infusions on two days. Like I said, I don't feel like belaboring mistakes, especially because the nurse was a good woman.

The little rabbit is also the whole shitty THING, too. The constant seizures, the calls back and forth to The Neurologists, the not-knowing, the no one can help feeling, the constant vigilance, the seizures, the eyes of Sophie, staring at me, the sweaty palms, the eyes, the eyes, the eyes. The whole shitty thing. One needn't live in Haiti to experience hell (although some perspective is in order but allow me to throw perspective to the winds and play the violin instead). And I just have to post the following gorgeous illustration where you can see Sophie and I lost, in the woods.

an illustration for Dante's Inferno by William Blake


Life in Hell is living with a child with a seizure disorder that is refractory to seemingly EVERYTHING.

I bet you're wondering how I'm going to figure out something to be thankful about today.

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