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Show 273 We are commiserating the disease and its treatments, or rather the lack of effective treatments. She startles as well, but it was because of the pump that she is now back in the hospital. It needed to be replaced. She will be going home soon. We exchange the strange facts of our separate histories and remark to each other concerning our similarities. Odd, I note, that we both have red hah. The nurse, is coming through the door with a fresh bag to hang on my IV pole. My pump has been turned off for some time now and we are trying a new series of IVIGg once again. The hopes are that somewhere within this segregated and homogenized element of human blood, one of its many donors will have an antibody against the enemy antibody my own body produces. Georgia is standing to leave and we wish each other luck. My speech is Versed-slurred. Hers is clear. I envy her walking out the door, soon to be in her own home with her husband and children. "Did you two have a nice visit?" my nurse asks, attaching the new bag to my line. "Yes," I am saying. I do not want to share my mixed feelings. Hoping she will have a good life. Wishing I could appear so well. Coveting her imminent trip home. This raw envy does not match my ethical beliefs and I am trying to reconcile the two, trying to repent quickly of my wishing to be as she appears, easy with movement. Perhaps it is not all as it seems, I am thinking, and then once again repenting of my seeming to wish her ill. Yet there is really no part of me that actually |