The funny and talented, Don from
who has by the way, won many contests – no fair – encouraged his followers to enter this “Blogger Idol” contest of the week, just for the heck of it. This week’s challenge is, “Write your own eulogy” on, http://blogger-idol.com/category/writing-prompts-2/.
I thought to myself, why the heck not enter? Contestants are to post the entry on their own blogs and then on the blogger idol site.
I decided to write my eulogy from the words of my killer:
As her killer, I would like to talk about Maria and her short time on this earth. I did not have the privilege of attacking her when she was a child, but based on what she was like when I met her, she must have been an inquisitive, brave, kind and stubborn little girl.
She did not see me coming, but boy was she a fighter from day one. She boldly rejected the moves I was making on her. I of course, like a challenge, so her indifference and disdain for me made me want her more. She was angry with me; they all are. But you see, Maria’s loved ones, that is what I do best. I assault innocent, often young and healthy people and destroy their bodies and their lives. I am unstoppable and have no predator to fear. There are some attempts at slowing me down, but there is no cure for what I am and what I do.
I have fond memories of the first time I attacked Maria. She was in her mid 20s, full of life and working downtown Boston, at the time. My M.O is always to start slow so as to confuse my victims and make them believe something else is responsible for their pain. She was engaged to be married to her now grieving husband, whom I would like to take a minute to address.
“Maria’s husband, I am not sorry for your terrible loss. You tried to help her fight me but neither of you were even close to being a match for my ruthless, destructive, damaging and crippling qualities.”
Going back to the first time I attacked her. I started off by making her feel intense fatigue. The type of fatigue that is debilitating. She was having difficulty working and living her active life. Then, I moved on to her platelets. I destroyed those babies pretty badly. It was great! She ended up needing a splenectomy (for those of you who do not know what that is, it is the surgical removal of your spleen which then makes you more compromised and susceptible to illnesses and a couple of steps closer to death.)
Things only got worse from there, as you know. You were all there for her. Bringing her meals, taking her to doctor’s appointments, giving her chemotherapy in hopes that I would just die. But I did not. She did.
At the tender age of 50, her body could no longer fight me. Her joints were all damaged and I was deeply embedded in her internal organs. I was creating deadly inflammation and compromising her immune system ‘till the very end.
I know you are all saddened by her absence and you wish this was only a dream, but my dear friends, you must face the facts. Maria is gone and is not coming back.
By the way, for those of you who don’t know me, my name is Rheumatoid Arthritis.