The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.
Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe
Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby.
Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.
I’ve been suffering from a new kind of pain the last ten days. What I hate the least about it is that I’m managing it reasonably well. It’s not like I have a choice—one might just as well work on getting used to it, as these things only get worse (and then you die).
It started with pain under the left rib cage, right below the heart. I suspected a heart attack, lungs explosion and alien abduction. I Googled what other organs are located in this area and was rather disgusted by the graphic images of the insides of the human body that I found. (I didn’t pay much attention in biology classes as I always found them nauseating.) I ended up contemplating with fascination the way the colon is curled up in the human belly. (I knew, but knowing is different from seeing.)
After a week, the pain suddenly moved several ribs down. This was an intriguing change, as the pain also spread to cover a larger area, where previously it hurt just in one spot. I’m waiting with anticipation for where it will go next. I take painkillers and booze for it (not simultaneously, as I’m sentimentally attached to my liver), with varied success—Ibuprofen doesn’t work at all, Scotch helps surprisingly well. I might even consult my GP, who actively hates me, at some point. I’m not rushing into it—something is wrong with either me or the doctors here, as they’re not too keen on treating these little things. It’s not like it’s cancer. (Well, hopefully.)