An interesting, albeit disturbing, book review:
Tough Medicine (Newyorker.com)
Friday, February 13, 2015
Sorry, as usual, for not updating more. The holidays were terrible and caused so much stress (family stuff) that it felt like all I could do just to survive, much less dwell on everything else. I think I mentioned it in the last entry, perhaps not, but my mental health effectively waxes and wanes with whether I can keep the emotional walls up and not really think about the horror of this diagnosis. When other things damage the wall, it all comes flooding back.
Nothing much is new, other than a better yet sadder understanding of those around me. I wrote a letter to a parent that I never sent to clarify my thoughts, and realized it would suffice as an entry here for now. Life is OK, or as OK as it can get when you just step around the elephant in the living room and try not to acknowledge it's existence. Anyways, a portion of that letter ...