I am Beth. There is no way around it, I’m not going to tip-toe anymore. Out of the past 14 days, I have been in a hospital bed for 9. My lung has collapsed 2 times in 2 weeks, & though there is a big part of me that wants to write another narrative about these past 5 days, I just can’t. I am hungry to do it, hungrier than I’ve been for anything else ever since the morphine made me vomit up anything that I swallowed, but something tells me I shouldn’t. It could be my frustration, or maybe it’s just the headaches I get when I walk up & down the stairs. But even without the narrative, the Beth in me has never been more apparent. Friends & family come to yr bedside, & all you can do is wince & wag yr head around, too embarassed & ashamed to call the nurse for more Percocet. Plus, the heavy stuff will make you nauseous, & yr 9 year old sister doesn’t need to see you throw up green Jell-o more than once today.<\/p>\n
Do you see what I’m trying to get at here? I knew from the start that Beth was the best & most useless March girl, & nothing in the world will make you feel better or more useless than video-assisted thoracoscopic surgery. This is the kind where they make 3 incisions in yr thorax & probe cameras inside to find where they can staple off those darn air pockets that cause lungs to collapse. Of course, Beth died because the word “video-assisted” was not yet in the English vernacular, so I suppose there is one great last hope for mankind in the end. Because I am convinced that Beth’s ailment was none other than spontaneous pneumothorax, or what we might call a collapsed lung. If only Marmee had known that all they needed was some anesthesia & talc to rub along the outer lining of the pleural sac to make sure the lung stays inflated this time. This one, the surgery with the talc, they call it pleurodesis. I had that one, too.<\/p>\n
![\"Thoracoscopy\"](\"http:\/\/www.umm.edu\/thoracic\/images\/thoracoscopy.gif\")
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But see, once again, that’s just my Beth talking. The frail, useless character who everybody pities & everybody loves, but no one can help. The advantage I have over Beth, I suppose, is only that everyone was able to help, & eventually it will pay off. Whereas Beth died &, Christ-like, was revived in time for Father’s arrival, I have no intention of dying in the first place. Sure the panic attacks at 3 in the morning when you can’t breathe feel like death, & right now not having the strength to open a window all the way just to get some fresh air is the sign of the body’s recession, but every deep breath is life, if that makes sense. Each time I can have a conversation without losing my breath, or take the dog outside for a bit, these are all Jo’s poetry written for me. Measuring the bile, losing the feeling in my mouth & chest, all of that is Beth’s sickness.<\/p>\n
![\"\"](\"http:\/\/img171.imageshack.us\/img171\/1822\/n1573260156300687759984rv3.jpg\")
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But I am Beth, & this sickness is mine after all. Only I bet Beth’s battle scars aren’t nearly as cool as mine.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
And they said to her, surely we will return with thee unto thy people. I am Beth. There is no way around it, I’m not going to tip-toe anymore. Out of the past 14 days, I have been in a … Continue reading