Dignity
I often feel undignified. Using a bib, food in and around my mouth, lifting up my t-shirt in order to drink through my PEG and dropping my trousers for a contraceptive injection. The briefer these moments are, the better. Hein can’t wrap his head around that, only seeing the practical side of things. But my goodness, do I feel unhappy while wearing a bib or lifting up my shirt. I know that dignity is mental, but sometimes I have trouble remembering that. Continue reading “Diary September 2002”