A random, eclectic mix of thoughts, feelings, observations, and experiences – LIFE

Posts tagged ‘30-days-of-truth’

Go Braless!

Day 16 – Someone or Something you definitely could live without

Bras. I really don’t understand why they are such a big deal in society. For a woman to walk around in public without a bra on… Can you imagine? It’s as though breasts are dirty, and need to be tucked away. Now, for the better endowed women, I understand the need/desire to wear a bra. It probably reduces sweat, make them feel less heavy, etc. For me, a little ol’ B-cup, bras make no sense. I often joke that I could just wear two band-aids (to keep the headlights in check) or scotch tape and be good to go. When picking out tank tops, I always go for the ones with the shelf-bra. That’s one less piece of clothing I need. Really though, how did we get here? I did a little research, and my findings are interesting. I’ll share them as succinctly as I can without losing meaning, and provide some links for further reading.

Brief History

  • 1500s – Corsets became popular (for lifting breasts)
  • 1900s – Bras introduced (to provide  more comfort than corsets)

More Bra History

Why Women Wear Bras

  • SupportPssh! I don’t need support for these lil babies.
  • Morality & Decency. I have to comment that this is just ridiculous. It is a valid concern, but at the root, it’s ludicrous. Some women wear bras to SEX IT UP while other wear them for the opposite reason. Insane! Yes, I know there are various types for various purposes… Still, it’s crazy.
  • Unspoken Rule of Society. I believe this is directly linked to Morality & Decency point.)
  • Anti-sagging. (Yes, a bra will left them for as long as you wear it. There seems to be some evidence, however, of bras causing sagging. Imagine that!
  • Comfort (Reduces sweat and slapping.) THIS, I understand.
  • Illusion. I admit that I have worn bras to make my breasts look larger on a few occasions. Kind of like applying white eyeliner to make my eyes look bigger. No? Not the same thing. Oh.
  • Exercise. During a presentation on Shark Tank, a woman said something like, “When a woman exercises, the only things that should be bouncing are balls.” I’m with her on that one.
  • Breastfeeding. Make sense. Leaking is real.

Bras have even been found to be a contributor to breast cancer!

Bra Alternatives

  • Camisoles
  • Tops with shelf bras. Nowhere near as ridiculous as a regular bra as it’s just an extra layer underneath the top with elastic under the bust area to keep it in place. These are my absolute favourites.
  • Adhesive cups. Theeese are pretty cool!
  • Disposable stickers. Some of them even give a little lift action!
  • Loose-fitting tops.
  • Leotards.
  • Men’s Undershirts.
  • Vests.
  • ZeeBraz Still a bra, but looks pretty cool and less restrictive.
  • Breast Rest This looks interesting… It’s sort of a support system that goes around the breasts, so they’re still out in the open and able to breathe. Worth a look.

I’m glad this question prompted me to look into the whole bra thing. Bras are a form of oppression for a lot of women. If you’d rather not wear them, don’t. Find the alternative(s) that work(s) best for you. I’m already thinking about the changes I can make, the purchases I should make, and the confidence I will definitely find within myself to be more comfortable.

Also, funny that I’m wearing these socks today:

Strength. Courage. Hope.

Want to read a bit more?

The Purpose of the Bra

Bra-Free Experiences

Going Braless Forum

More Detailed Info On My Points

Iron Like a Lion

Day 15 – Something or someone you couldn’t live without because you’ve tried living without it.

I couldn’t live without iron. I have iron-deficiency anaemia, and it can get pretty nasty. It’s the most common type of anaemia, but mine is a little strange. It seems that my body doesn’t store iron. Not only that, it has a bit of difficulty in absorbing iron in the first place. This means I have to intake more iron than the average person. Even more than most anaemic people. It really becomes difficult since, generally, I don’t eat red meat. I try to eat beef every now then since it’s the only meat I can stomach aside from chicken and turkey. I can’t eat beef everyday, so I supplement myself with spinach, apples, raisins, oatmeal, etc.

There have been a few times that my iron has been quite low. My iron level should be between 30 and 100, and the first time it dropped really low was when I was in university. I was extremely tired, had frequent headaches, found it difficult to concentrate, etc. Finally, I went to the doctor. After testing, the doctor told me she had no idea how I was able to stand up, let alone walk across campus to her office. My iron was at 4. Now the thing about iron is that it drops quickly, but it takes forever to build it back up. I had to visit the doctor every week, and she wasn’t pleased with how slowly it was increasing, especially considering the amount of tablets I was taking. I did all the little tricks like taking B12, and taking vitamin C at the same time as the iron supplements. Nothing worked. It became clear than my body was not responsive to the pills anymore. What did this mean? SHOTS, SHOTS, SHOTS, SHOTS, SHOTS, SHOTS! And not the fun kind.

Another time, when I was living off campus, I felt near-death. My mother called me one day, and just from the way I sounded, she became upset. She called my grandaunt and asked her to call me and see if she could figure out what was going on. Eventually, my great-grandmother and dad were calling me too. They all decided that I sounded awful. My mother later said that I sounded “like you didn’t have another minute to live!” Somehow, I made it to the hospital where they discovered that my iron was low AND my blood sugar level dropped (probably because I had no energy to make myself anything to eat.) I got iron shots, and IVs. It was great. My great-grandmother, mother, and father all hopped on a plane and travelled 9 hours to get to me. By the time they got to me, there was nothing left to do but wait for my iron level to go up. They sat with me day after day as I stayed curled up on the couch, covered by blankets. (With my iron so low, I was always freezing.) My dad force-fed me various things including beets (Yum!) and Guinness (YUCK!). He literally FED me. And HELD DRINKS WITH STRAWS for me. Carried me around. Even things that tasted good, I didn’t feel like eating or drinking. I can’t really describe the feeling of complete weakness.

That was the last time my iron has ever been that low. I don’t know what the level actual was, but I know that I need not ever feel that way again. Since that experience, I found an amazing product that’s all natural and keep my iron where it needs to be. A little every morning, the right combination of vitamins, and iron-rich food in every meal, and it’s smooooth sailing. Most of the time. I snack as much as possible during the day on things like yummy mixes, apples, and fruit snacks with the occasional sweets (to keep the sugar up and maybe give me some fake energy). I also drink VitaMalt when I think my meal may be a little lacking in iron-enrichment.

So, yeah. I need iron in my life. The snacks and food I’ve mentioned and the magic liquid iron probably save my life daily. I DID try living without, and I ended up quite… Lifeless.

I Don’t Want a Secret Hero

Day 14 – A hero that has let you down (letter)

This is just silly. I don’t want to do this one, honestly. I peeked ahead, and this is one that I just knew I couldn’t be bothered to do. I’m not into heroes. Don’t have any. And today, I’m in a particularly off mood. I just want to go back to my bed, and not deal with today. I am, however, going to force myself to write this damn letter.


GUITAR HERO ROCKED MY FREAKING SOCKS in 2009. WOO! (Picture from Google Images)

Dear Hero,

I don’t know who you are. Apparently, everyone has someone like you… Someone to look up to. Someone to save them from distress. Or themselves. Someone to come rushing in at the precise moment when they’re needed most. Maybe you’re just not a good one. Maybe you’re so good that I don’t notice I need you, or that you came to my rescue. You just fix things, make things happen, stop things from happening SO fast that I can’t tell. You don’t let anything get close enough to me for me to notice. In that case, I guess you rock, and I should change my attitude and the tone of this letter. At the same time, you should show me a little respect. I should know what goes on in my life. Even the things that ALMOST went on, or COULD HAVE went on (if you weren’t there to stop them). How am I supposed to learn if I don’t know these things? Maybe there are people I should stay away from, things I should stop doing, actions I should take… How would I know this if you always save the day… IN SECRET?

Here’s how you can step your hero game up:

– Save lives

– Stop bad things from happening

– Make good things happen

– Let me know when and how you do all of the above things

– Teach me what I need to learn to be self-sufficient and live a more productive life so that YOU can go off and save some other person

Ummm… The end. Bye.


King of Sorrow

Day 13 – A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days

Dear Sade,

You are beautiful. Strikingly. One time, my mom’s friend told her that I look like you. I wondered if it was a compliment to me, or… Well, yeah. I took it as a compliment. Even though my mom disagreed. She later said that I’m prettier than you are. I don’t know if she was being honest. She said the same thing when someone said I look like Alicia Keys. Anyway, I just look like me. You look like beauty. In this picture, you really remind me of my girlfriend who is also super beautiful. You’re aging gracefully, and that’s really nice to see. Especially these days, when so many people – women in particular – are obsessed with covering, lifting, colouring, re-making parts of themselves. It’s also nice that you’re not overly-sexy, baring it all, or popping booty all over the place. Though I suppose the booty popping wouldn’t do much for the music you make.

Your music. It is great. It’s so soft, soothing, and true. The words you sing are like actual feelings. They don’t seem like something imagined or dreamed or pretended. They could only come from a place of truth. Honesty. Reflection. With and of yourself. For you to share that with the world is beyond anything that anyone could ever ask of an artist. Baring the soul is difficult to do. Especially to people you don’t know and will probably never meet. But you do it. In ev.er.y song. That is commendable.

Some of my favourite songs by you are:

No Ordinary Love

By Your Side

Soldier of Love

The song that gets me through rough days is definitely King of Sorrow.

It allows me to have a little pity party. By the time the song is over, I’ve allowed myself to feel all the awful feelings I would normally toss aside, and allowed myself to cry or do whatever I need to do to release the pain or sorrow. Then, I can move on, and leave the sorrow behind, in the song. Thank you for that. For giving me the license to FEEL. And to RELEASE. And to MOVE ON.

With thanks and appreciation,


Unidentical Ears (Day 12 of 30 Days of Truth)

Day 12 – Something you never get compliments on

People dish out compliments on some weird things sometimes. Sometimes, they miss out obvious things. Maybe because they think some things are over-complimented. Maybe it’s because they feel like it breaks them down to build someone else up. It’s so much easier to “hate” on a person than it is to say, “You know what? This certain thing in particular about you… It really freaking ROCKS, and you should know it.” Or they just don’t take the time to notice. Or feel the need to comment. Or a million other reasons. *shrugs*

What do I never get complimented on? This is tough. I’ve even been complimented on my feet, and I think that is just STRANGE. My feet are not great, by any means.

*thinks really hard*

Oh, I know! My ears! No one ever tells me I have great ears. People tell me I’m a great listener all the time, but they don’t seem to notice the body parts that make it possible. It’s a shame, really. I do have great ears. They’re beautiful. They’re even more special now. They don’t match. I had surgery on my right ear, and it’s not quite like the left one any more.

The Surgery Story

Tragus Piercing (Google Images)

I got my tragus pierced in July 2010. It was quick, easy, and painless. It looks great. I’ve never taken the ring out of it. It’s a captive bead ring. Stainless steel. Plain and simple. I get compliments on it all the time. People think is super cute and different. I just plain like it. Ok. Fast forward to 2011. I decide I want my rook pierced. It’s super cute. I want the barbell. I get Babe to go with me to have it done before we headed to Atlantis to chaperone my nephew’s sleepover. I looked at the chart of the ear and its various piercings and decide that I should do the snug first. Those would be my last two piercings. The snug, and then the rook. I choose a ring with green balls on the ends. I’m excited. I get it pierced. It doesn’t really hurt. Feels fine. I’m thrilled.

WELL. Days later, it’s quite swollen. And red. And oozing. I clean it like I’m supposed to. I insist that it’s fine and it should be swollen and a bit oozy at first because of where it is. I keep going back to the piercer who tells me it’s fine, and we just need to keep squeezing it to get the crap out. Eventually, she takes the ring out, and I go there daily to have it squeezed. Weeks later, Babe has had enough. It’s far too large. It even looks painful. She calls a relative who is a doctor and he suggests we see a particular doctor. A plastic surgeon.

Here’s how the visit went:

[Doctors enters room]

Doctor: Ok, so what can I do for you toda— WHAT. DID YOU DO. TO YOUR EAR?!

Me: [nervous laugh] Pierced it.

Doctor: Oh, my GOD.

Me: Oh. No. It’s not good if you’re saying, “Oh, my GOD.”

Doctor: No. It isn’t good. Your ear is badly infected.

Me: [blinks] Oh.

Doctor: We are going to have to operate. Right now.

Me: NOW?!

Doctor: Yes, right away. We can do it here. It’s very serious.

Me: [tears roll down cheeks]

Doctor: Listen. We have to do this. You could lose your entire ear. We’re going to try to save it.

Me: [cries]

Doctor: Do you want to call someone?

Me: *shakes head*

Doctor: Ok, this is what is going to happen. [foreign language and combinations of words I’m not listening to at all b/c my brain is stuck on SURGERY when I thought I’d come in, and he’d use a needle really quickly to drain my ear.]

Me: [cries quietly]

Doctor: Are you sure you don’t want to call someone? Is that your friend out in the waiting area?

Me: Yes.

Doctor: Do you want me to call her?

Me: *nods while crying quietly*

[Doctor goes out of room. He comes back with T who looks very somber and sits down next to me and hold my hand. The doctor explains that he’ll do the surgery in house which is better than going to a hospital and staying overnight. He tells us that he will stick me a few times to numb my ear, then he’ll make two incisions (one at the front and one at the back of my ear) to drain the infection out. He makes it clear that he will do his best, but can’t guarantee that he can save my ear, or that it will ear look the same again. This is when I cry more. T makes a call to my sister to let her know what was up. My sister wants to be there, but she can’t leave work due to a training session. She calls our older sister who is off from work (not feeling well), and jumps up and flies to the doctor’s office to be with me.]

RANDOM NOTE: PEOPLE. PLEASE. Piercings are really cool, but BE CAREFUL. Do your research. find the best piercer possible. Ask questions. If anything seems wrong, go back to your piercer. If you have any doubt about what he/she says, see someone else. Another piercer. A doctor. Even at a walk-in clinic. Online forums are good too. I posted ONE picture, and they told me right away that something was VERY wrong.

Well, the procedure took a few minutes. T held my hand the whole time, and my sister rubbed my leg and told funny stories. I just laid there, quietly crying. When it was done, the doctor had to pack my ear with gauze, to give it shape. The infection ate away at my cartilage, so he really had to build it back. My entire ear was covered when he was done, and the gauze was wrapped around my head. I looked like I could have just had brain surgery. This was done on a Monday. I went back on Wednesday and Friday for dressing changes. By the next week, I didn’t need the full headwrap. I could dress it myself. But I didn’t. T did it for me. Every day and night. About a week after that, I graduated to just a bandaid at the back because the front had healed. I refused to look at it for about a 2 weeks. It was dark and weird-looking. As the doctor promised, it has lightened up and shaped pretty nicely. My right ear still doesn’t match my left ear, but I still have it. I can still hear. And listen. So it’s okay if people don’t think it’s pretty.

Please Keep Yours Hands in the Vehicle (Day 10 of 30 Days of Truth)

Day 10 – Someone you need to let go or wish you didn’t know

My hands are always full. There’s no room to hold on to anything I don’t want or need. If it’s not good for me, I just drop it in favour of something better. Even if it’s just being able to hold on, more comfortably, to things I already have. I’m not one of those hanging-on people. I just can’t do it. As a matter of fact, I may be the type to let go of things prematurely. I just don’t like waste. Time, energy, resources… All too precious and limited. Must not be wasted.

I’m thinking really hard about this as I type. Is there someone? [5 minute pause] I really don’t think there is. I try to keep it clean and simple. It’s important that we sit in the driver’s seat of our lives. Not only to sit there and look like we’re in charge, but to really drive it. Like a car. Steer the wheel. Swerve out of the way (as safely as possible) when something’s coming at you that you really don’t need to crash into. Stop at the red light, and watch traffic go in the other direction. Take time to think about which way you’ll go. Get to 4-way stops where you follow the rules and let other people move first if they beat you there. Use OnStar if you really need some help, but keep your own thinking cap (driving goggles?) on. Be in control. Drop people off at their destinations. Don’t feel like you have to take them along for the entire ride. That’s really the key, isn’t it? Ever sat in the driver’s seat, but realized that a PASSENGER was taking YOU for a ride? Ha! No bueno!

Are you catching my drift? Is this making sense? My ride is so sweet; a lot of people wanna get a ride. I’m okay with running the occasional taxi service, but I get to decide on the route we’re taking, and when it’s time to get out… Buddy, get outta the car.

Anyone who needed to be kicked (left on) the curb has been already. There may be people riding my car now that will have to be dropped off at the next destination. Who knows?! I don’t, at this point, so for now, I’m enjoying the view as we take on these rolling hills, feeling the wind whip through my (1cm long) hair. Everyone still in the vehicle can fasten their seatbelts and keep their hands inside. They may be in it for the long haul.

Internet Me (Day 9 of 30 Days of Truth)

Day 9 – Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted

No one really comes to mind, no matter how many times I read this question. I haven’t kept in touch with many people from previous stages of my life, and it hasn’t been intentional. I guess it’s due more to lack of intention and/or action. I don’t feel the need to aggressively, specifically, intentionally keep people in my life. I’m sure that if they should be in my life, they would be. [insert quote about people being in your life for reasons, seasons, etc. here]

I’m not in touch with people from elementary school, though a lot of them were the same people I went to high school with. (I went to a K-12 private school.) Well, to be fair, the people I was close to at any point in life are probably friends of mine on Facebook. See, that’s the thing. These days, there really isn’t much room to be “out of touch” with anyone. You may not be buddy-buddy, going to the movies, hitting clubs, grabbing drinks in bars, sitting side-by-side at random events any more, but you can still feel like these people are a part of your life, and you a part of theirs. It’s all because we have instant, easy access to people’s LIVES. Pictures, videos, status updates (however frequent or infrequent), twitter feeds, blogs, and personal websites. Who needs the telephone?! Who needs to hang out in REAL LIFE?! Answer: No one.

We’ve come a long way, haven’t we? In two directions at once. In some ways we’ve made giant steps forward, and in a lot of ways we’ve made gigantic steps back. I’m connected (via various internet sensations) to people I probably would have lost all contact with/for a long time ago. Is this a good thing? Yeah, probably. When we use such technology, we have the option to make a real connection if we’d like to. That’s nice to know. If I ever wanted to reconnect with my 2nd roommate in university, I could search for her on Facebook and send her a message. We could arrange a Skype call if we live too far apart. WALAH! It’s like magic.

There are a lot of people I didn’t intentionally “let go,” but we managed to drift apart. That’s fine with me. I won’t lament or stress about it. It’s FINE. We can reconnect if we WANT to. And that’s what’s important.

3 Short Stories (Day 8 of 30 Days of Truth)

Day 8 – Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like $#!+


First of all, my life is not hell, and never has been. *shrugs* Very few people have ever had the power to make me feel otherwise. None of them have ever used or abused it. Yes, there have been some rough patches. There are days when I wished I’d just stayed in bed. Sometimes I’m disappointed. Some people, at some point(s), have been less than I thought they were or could be. Sometimes, my expectations are not met. Does this make my life hell? Not even close. Would I bother to call anyone out about it? Ummm… Probably not. Can I recount a few experiences for your entertainment [read: bleeding heart] purposes? Sure! Would it be fun to read? Ummm… I don’t know. Maybe in a Oh-my-gosh-that-never-happened-to-me! or a Oh-my-goshness-me-too-girl! or Girlfriend-that-reminds-me-of-this-one-time, or Sistah-I-can-SO-top-that-story sort of way. Let’s see…

One time, in the fifth grade, the teacher decided that for the art session of class (we only had separate teachers for library, physical education, and music), we would draw the person sitting across from us. You can already tell where this is going, can’t you? The boy sitting across from me drew a terrible picture. He didn’t mean to. He just sucked at drawing. Similar to the way that I sucked at drawing. (I still suck at it, by the way. If it’s not a square, circle, rectangle, or triangle, I should just not do it.) Anyway. I hated the picture. Somehow, I internalized it and made his poor drawing my ugliness. Or something. So I cried. It was terrible. We graduated high school together. He still remembered that day.

I got braces in the third grade. It was ignorant. I didn’t even have all of my permanent teeth yet. Like, REALLY?! The orthodontist clearly just wanted the money. WHY would you put braces on a child who hasn’t changed all of his/her teeth yet?! WHY?! Because you’re a jerk, and you just want his/her parents’ money. This idiot… I had braces until the SEVENTH GRADE. No, my teeth were not that jacked up. Actually, I just had a slight space between my two front teeth and a very slight overbite. I was willing to live with it. My mother was not. The result? Three years (I skipped the fourth grade, in case you’re doing the math) of braces when it could’ve been a year or less. Gosh. I just realized that I’m still pissed about this. To add to it, the day I got the braces, teeth all sensitive and everything, my mother cooked STEAK. Yep. STEAK. That hard meat. With baked potato (thank heaven!) and corn ON THE COB. Yep. ON THE COB. She basically had to cut the steak up so small that I couldn’t taste it, and cut the corn off of the cob. She also apologized the whole time I ate. She didn’t plan that meal with me or my brand new mouth accessory in mind. *exhales heavily* I feel much better now that I’ve let that out. *throws the memory and accompanying feelings out into the ocean*

In university, I semi-dated this guy… He was nice enough to me. He pretty much showered me with everything. Cooked for me, accompanied me on errands, introduced me to people, supported me in my goals, etc. Soon enough, things got weird. I became more of an accessory than a person. I realized I was being coerced into attending events I really had zero interest in even hearing about. Yep… a guy was dragging me along and SHOWING ME OFF. We’d be in an elevator like normal people until other people entered. Then he’d be all arm-around-my-waist-ish. People even started commenting about him making it a POINT to let people know that we were together. It was ridiculous. At first it was kind of cute, but that wore off SUPER FAST. I was like, “Dude, this is weird. I don’t like. K, bye.” He was all like, “Woman, no! You will not leave me! We will get married! Everyone will know that you are MIIIIINE [echoes]!” I was all like a track star running away, and he was all like the most villainous villain you’ve ever seen, zapping me and lassoing me and stuff. We had a fight. Verbal, physical… All that jazz. It wasn’t much fun, but we did it anyway. And then he got arrested. And I got counselling. Yeah.

So, there you have it. Three moments (involving people) in my not-quite-three-decades of life that weren’t stellar. They didn’t rock my world. Or even my VERY COOL socks. (Do you know about my love for super cool socks?) They were difficult. In different ways. Still, they didn’t define me, or my life. They’re just pieces of the puzzles. Brick of the wall. Ingredients in the cake. (Definitely not the icing) You know, the raw egg doesn’t taste great by itself. Neither does the flour. Or baking soda/power. But put together with a few other (some slightly or WAY better tasting) things, a beautiful cake is made. My life is cake. Cake is my life. (I mean this in so many ways, you have no idea.) We all have some raw eggs, dry, tasteless flour, and stuff like that, but we also have cocoa powder, vanilla extract, sugar, and stuff like THAT. Mix it up. Put it together. In the RIGHT way… And we end up with a cake. Life is what you make of it, right? Similarly, cake is what you make it… All about how you combine those ingredients… What you DO with them. The oven it bakes in may feel like (your idea of) hell, but 10 minutes to cool and a little frosting, and WALAH! Stick some candles in it, and call it a HAPPY BIRTHDAY! 

This Life Is Worth Living (Day 7 of 30 Days of Truth)

Day 7 – Someone who has made your life worth living for

There are so many great people in my life. I’ve had great support all my life, from family and friends. Different people have contributed to my life, supported me, taught me lessons, made me feel better, saved me, and been present when need the most at different points and in different situations. To single anyone out would be unfair. It would also be a little ridiculous to say that one person has made my life worth living. If someone had to make my life worth living, I should probably just perish, no? I think it’s enough to say that people have made trying times more bearable, given me more than my share of laughs and smile, supported me, built me up… You know… That stuff.

I guess I should start dishing out some credit…

Ma – ALWAYS there. Always. She’s 91 years old, and still the strongest person I know. Period. Always available, always willing and able to help, always to-the-point, always honest, always sincere, always always.

Auntie – There to listen, there to advise. Asks questions to provoke thought. Makes suggestions. And sandwiches. Does a lot of cooking and feeding. And praying.

Parents – Always do the best they can, denying nothing that is in their power.

Siblings – Multi-everything. All so different, but have and share the same love, care, and concern. Super-support. Drop anything at any moment to help me cry, take me home, bring me a meal, or share a good joke.

TEverything I ever wanted and needed in my life, whether I knew it or not. The Love of My Life. If I say much more, this would end up being a separate post because once I start, I find it hard to stop. My Babe is just the most amazing person. The most perfect person. For me. And only me.

I don’t want to get into listing friends separately… They know who they are. They know that I value a good little pow-wow. A listening ear. A devil’s advocate. A good story. A trip to the beach. Or ice cream shop.

Little things in varying combinations make up the big ol’ thing that is life. And it IS worth living. It’s just that the people we let in add different kinds of special. Like herbs and spices add flavour to a pot.

Paying to Survive (Day 6 of 30 Days of Truth)

Day 6 – Something you hope you never have to do.

I never want to have to deal with another serious/chronic/autoimmune/terminal illness. Not in a family member, not in a friend, not in myself. It is so draining, in every way.

One thing I don’t understand is the cost of medication. And treatment, for that matter. It makes no sense. How could it cost so much money for a person to preserve life?! Governments intervene to regulate the prices of bread basket items, seemingly because we need them to live. What about medicine? What about treatments like chemotherapy? What about rehabilitation? How does it cost thousands and thousands of dollar to preserve life? To treat illnesses, to ease symptoms, to slow the decline… Why?

I’d rather not have to deal with illness in anyone close to me. It’s a difficult, trying time. Coming to terms with the diagnosis, learning about the condition, reviewing treatment options, finding the money, fighting insurance companies, getting emotional support, preventing relapses, raising awareness. There’s so much involved in it. At the end of the day, we do what we must. We do the best we can with what we have. We try to get what we don’t have, but realize we need. It feels like a never-ending game of tug-of-war. But we do it. When we have to. Because we have to. I don’t want to have to. But I will. If I do. But I hope I don’t. Ever again.