I am grateful for the guards. But I do not trust them. You might be wondering: Why stay? Why not escape?
Plaquenil (Hydroxychloroquine) is the silent guard. It stands in the corner, doing its job quietly, trying to calm the riot. I don't see it working, but I know the horror stories of what happens when it leaves.
We are serving a life sentence. But we are not dead yet. And as long as my heart is still beating—even if it is beating out of rhythm due to lupus myocarditis—I will be scratching tally marks on the wall.
You learn to walk on eggshells in a house made of landmines. The cruelest part of this detention isn't the joint pain or the "brain fog" that makes me forget my own zip code. It’s the solitary confinement.
I have learned the power of "Spoon Theory" to explain my daily energy ration. I have learned that "no" is a complete sentence when the warden demands too much. I have learned to find a strange, defiant peace in the quiet days.
I am grateful for the guards. But I do not trust them. You might be wondering: Why stay? Why not escape?
Plaquenil (Hydroxychloroquine) is the silent guard. It stands in the corner, doing its job quietly, trying to calm the riot. I don't see it working, but I know the horror stories of what happens when it leaves. lupus detention house
We are serving a life sentence. But we are not dead yet. And as long as my heart is still beating—even if it is beating out of rhythm due to lupus myocarditis—I will be scratching tally marks on the wall. I am grateful for the guards
You learn to walk on eggshells in a house made of landmines. The cruelest part of this detention isn't the joint pain or the "brain fog" that makes me forget my own zip code. It’s the solitary confinement. Why not escape
I have learned the power of "Spoon Theory" to explain my daily energy ration. I have learned that "no" is a complete sentence when the warden demands too much. I have learned to find a strange, defiant peace in the quiet days.