Hurry Up And Wait

Jason's been good. But if this disease teaches you anything, it wants you to know it is as ghetto as it fucking comes and keep your Voltron up. The Hulk still lingers in Jason. His body still makes the anti-bodies equivalent to the gamma rays that turns mild manned Bruce Banner into something more sinister. Last Thursday, Jason decided to trash his room. I have been sleeping over at the hospital since Friday night. Taking my place on the beat up and stained pull up couch directly across from him. Watching as he gets up several times a night to give me the middle finger, ask me what I am looking at or tell Me to go fuck myself.

"Do you think it could be a demon in here  mommy?" An aide asked me. I get it. I wasn't mad. Religion holds some of us so tightly we can only imagine the supernatural is bringing on this extreme crazy.

"I don't." I responded.

I think he is sick. I think God is in control.  I think the mind is an extraordinary thing and while we sometimes think we are unraveling the mysteries of the universe God reminds us that we don't know shit, we need to stay in our lane and play our humbled positions.

As I blow my nose for the thousandth time and wrap up the never ending green phlegm I try not to cough too much into my mask. The contagion neurotic drone in me terrified of getting Jason sick. Hopefully we will be out for Chemo again this week.

I waited for the nurse to give him his meds before I left to go visit my home and my other kids.

Life will be better one day.