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Not Actually Borges
01 October 2010 @ 01:42 am
I'm not sure I've mentioned this, but my mother was sick for most of my junior year of university.

The illness she had is still not named, but she was basically stuck in bed for several months, constantly running a 103 fever and unable to keep food down without puking. It was a bad time for her; during the worst months, before they found a semi-effective treatment, she had to be assisted to the bathroom several times a day in order to throw up or use the lavatory. Several months in they found a drug cocktail that eliminated most of the symptoms. Still, over the course of a few months my mom lost 30 or so pounds in the hospital.

I'm still not sure what I think about that time.

A lot of it I ignored: I visited on my designated days, and sometimes I visited by surprise. But I was in school and getting ready to spend a year or so traveling. I convinced myself that I didn't need to spend so much time with my mom. It's possible I really didn't.

Like me, my mom lives inside herself and her perception. Where she sees a fragment, she makes a complete narrative. She is never alone (I hope) she lives inside her own kaleidoscope library.

My mom is basically healed now.