I was wondering if I wasted time or time wasted me. I came to an understanding that I wasted my time up until the age of forty, at times consciously and at times unconsciously. After forty, it is Time’s turn, and it is wasting me with a vengeance. In three months, it will be four years. Patience, I think, is God’s given virtue to man and I think we are just about at the end of the rope.
I am sick and tired of exposing my private parts to strangers so that they can help me wash up after toileting. I am tired of waiting for someone to help me on the toilet, for minutes on end, lying in bed waiting for a long time for someone to come and help me move, and stare at the same thing again and again and unable to express myself, and resembling a stubborn goat when I am frustrated, and being a burden to everyone. Because I am unable to turn in bed, I always lie on my right side. My shoulders begin to hurt. Sinan is constantly applying ointments and special gauzes to make them heal. There are not many wounds on my thighs yet but I begin to feel pain at times. Because of the loss of muscle tissue in my back, they has put a towel behind me when I am on the toilet, but my spine is black and blue, and has begun hurting. Because of this disease, for about seven months now, I can’t control my saliva. I drool uncontrollably and constantly, and they have to place a folded paper towel in my mouth to stop the saliva choking me. My tongue, my lips are all hurting with scars. Nobody can understand or imagine how hard and painful it is. The doctor has prescribed a special patch to stop the drooling, to be placed behind my ear. It is very difficult to endure. It is very bitter and makes me gag but I have no choice but to endure it. I am living on an IV once a week and the sites of the needle-pricks are purple now. I can’t make a sound. I can’t even hear myself anymore. When I am sitting outdoors for some fresh air, flies land on my arms and make them itch and I am unable get rid of them or scratch. My arms are just like concrete blocks, unable to move. These are my good days. There will still be a feeding tube to be put into my stomach and breathing tube in my throat.
My God, I am not trying to be rebellious to your design that you have for me for all I am living through, and I know you are all giving and all shall come from you. But I am tired of all these tests you are putting me through and begging for mercy. I do not have pity for myself, because You give us life first, then our soul and then our mind with our being. Because of my soul and mind, I don’t pity myself. But I am.
Second page is more sadness. How one’s life can be destroyed. I am so sorry Sinan!
Because of my condition, you have to go through all this and your life has turned into misery.
And your whole life has been turned upside down.
Note: This posting was originally written at September 2012.
Zehra, I am spending much of my time supporting a wonderful elderly Uncle who recently & suddenly lost his warm & gracious wife, then his only brother, then seriously injured himself (no doubt distracted by all that had happened). And yet lying in hospital for weeks, he maintains his sense of humour, caring and perspective.
Then I read your “Two Page Book” — 7 months after its writing! — followed by your more recent “The Genius” … and I’m even further inspired. It’s truly a privilege to be allowed to be enlightened by your insights.
Zehra, I am so happy to read your posts. Having been one who could have and can do more to stay in touch with yourself and Sinan. To be able to share your thoughts and feelings is, to me, a rare privilege and I thank you for including me. Your friend, Tim