Dear Body of Mine



Dear Body of Mine:

You sure are a lemon.

I have known this for a long time but damn girl, you just keep on breaking down on me as I coast along trying to live my life the best I can.

Some brickhouse you are.

After all I do for you.  I take all the medications you require, I allow you to rest a lot  and I keep you hydrated, mostly.  Ok, so I stuff you with delicious food and libations, maybe more than I should, but I do it out of love (for you and the food).

Better  to have a full tank than keeping you on empty which is not good for the engine, anyway.

Why do you keep betraying me?  What have I ever done to you?  I am getting so I really cannot trust you.  I am afraid to rely on you to keep me safe.

This past weekend you allowed an infection to enter my bloodstream.


We have talked about this and I though I made it clear that I am not to get infections and definitely NEVER in my blood.

I know I cannot blame it all on you.  I realize that without a spleen you have to work even harder to keep me alive.  But as I recall, it was you who rejected my spleen and allowed it to attack my platelets.  It is  called an autoimmune response.  Whatever the name, it is not very nice.

You did warn me on Friday by giving me excruciating back pain and making me shiver with an awful case of chills.  I’ll give you that.  I suppose the fever was a pretty clear warning that things were going downhill fast.  I thank you for that but why did you allow the infection to go sepsis in the first place?

You landed me in the ER having to have a spinal tap.  That was not fun was it?  It was a huge needle and it had to go into my back which was already in pain.  That was definitely cruel.

Not to mention the oceans of blood taken from my veins to help figure out what was happening.  Oh, and the hospital food.  How could you make me have to look at it, smell it and taste it?  For that, it may take even longer than expected, to forgive you.

I am home now.  You are behaving at the moment and letting me rest.  I am exhausted and weak.

I have a lot to do, like getting my son launched in his new apartment in college and getting my daughter ready for her freshmen year.  Not to mention enjoy the rest of summer.

So I beg you, body of mine, to step it up –ASAP!

Grow some cojones, will ya?

Do what you were hired to do and fight the invaders trying to hurt me.  Remember that you are my security team.  My first line of defense.

As angry as I am at you for screwing up big time, I cannot help but feel somewhat grateful.    The fact that I am alive means that you responded as you should have to the antibiotics and allowed me to live.  For that, I thank  you.

But the real thanks goes to God for giving me another chance.

I thank Him for blessing me and letting me be here for my family.

I thank Him for giving me the opportunity to continue to enjoy life and be the silly happy person I am.

Respectfully Angry at You,


46 thoughts on “Dear Body of Mine

    1. Oh, no! Sorry about that. I am glad you are well and were just taking a nice summer break. I worry when I don’t hear from people. 🙂

      I am so much better right now. No more infections, feeling stronger and getting my mojo back. Not as fast as I would like as I am still exhausted but I can see the light. Thanks for the positive vibes. 🙂


  1. Oh dear! Sepsis!?! How awful! You are seriously ill, please take good care of you. I send you wishes for a quick and total recovery. I never realized how important a spleen was. I think I’ll keep mine. I have enough to worry about.

    Take care!


  2. Life may huff and it may puff, but it won’t blow you down, Brickhousechick! Keep feeling better and regaining that strength. Thanks for sharing your ordeal in your uniquely humorous way and reminding us of the importance of seeing the lighter side of things!!


    1. Linda, I got the package yesterday! Love the variety, the colors and the heart. It really brightened up my frustrating day. I thank you so much for your continued kindness and friendship. 💏💛💙💜


    1. I love how you always look at the positive side. 🙂 I am trying to remain patient but a rough day like today is making it a wee bit (a whole lot) difficult. I need to feel stronger. There are two particular important words I keep repeating in Spanish: Paciencia y Fe.

      How are you doing these days?


      1. I’m alright, thanks. Spending more time than I’d like at work, but getting plenty of playtime in too.

        I wonder if there are condition-specific exercises for you?


    1. Gracias, Julie. Baby steps but I’m getting there. Not as fast as I would like but I need to be patient. Hey, did you already go to the Dominican Republic? I feel like I am so behind!


    1. It’s just as strange to read this comment from you than it has been to say it. Glad to be alive. I am trying to get beyond it but still do not trust my body. Felt very weak today, gotta take it slow. 🙂


  3. Everybody needs to get a little angry at their own body every once in a while Mrs. B. It didn’t fail you, thank God, just went to sleep on the job again for a bit. Back to full vigilante mode. Knock on wood. I need my friend hanging out with food and libations and good humor and telling me about it all.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Get strong little by little, day by day, Maria. Don’t try to do too much and relapse, OK? Promise me, will you?

        Week three was the best for me in the new job. The learning curve seemed to accelerate somewhat. I hope that continues tomorrow. The pace is fast and non-stop from log-on to log-off, with that one hour lunchtime to regroup and relax. Oh, and eat. Thanks for asking, but now back to you. Recuperate and don’t rush it!


      1. Yeah, mine has yet to attack my nerves or my pancreas (respectively) like theirs did for them. My dad’s conditions… I can barely spell them. My sister… needs to upgrade her pump, and she’s not looking forward to it.

        Liked by 1 person

    1. Gracias mi amiga. I am going to take it slow, work on a puzzle, maybe make some jewelry. I’ll have to hold off on the Sangria for a couple of days until the antibiotics run out. 🙂 I hope you have a wonderful weekend! xo


  4. I’ve come to think of it as a message from our bodies; perhaps reminding us that we aren’t invincible, and that maybe we should slow down. I get to uncover the bandage and clean the incision today! YAY (PUKE) I can’t do it, so I’ve asked my mom to come over and do it for me. Next stop… hematology. But, hopefully I’ll leave there with more answers than questions. My son is only 11. If anything happened to me, the court would automatically give custody to his father. His father just yesterday made a joke about the death of my boyfriends child. My son has severed all ties with his father, and DOES NOT belong with him. So now I’m scrambling to get sole custody and a legal living will so that should something happen to me, my son goes right to my brother and his wife (whom he absolutely adores). Ugh… life.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Exactly. I don’t see the hematologist until next Tuesday though… And have I mentioned that I’m probably the most impatient person you’ll ever know?


  5. I’m sorry to learn that this nonsense happened to you. But I have to believe that this heartfelt letter to your body should set things straight. Sometimes it just take a bit of stern talk to get going again. Hope you feel better soon– and stay that way.

    Liked by 1 person

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