Musashi Mix Inq

Palliativity 109: The Dark Time

Posted on December 9, 2010

The Dark Time

Sleep is the far-off shore. Medication is my vessel. Ahead is the threat of another sunrise all too soon.

Twilight. My head hits pillow and the lucid dreams begin. Asleep I leave my broken body.

I am presented with an anxiety dream. I laugh at the familiar characters and the tired plot. I fly away to the empty stage; the green room of the soul. Endless possibility and infinite time. I am the creator. I can do anything. I can be anyone. I—

am awake…


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Palliativity 108: Game On

Posted on December 2, 2010

Game On

"Let pain be your guide", is the mantra of physical therapy.

I am Dante to a constant Virgil; We're going down. Express lane only—

Count the reps. Breathe in hope, Exhale desire.

Round 2— FIGHT!

Rehabilitation: make this body habitable once more. Bring me to Logress. Where is my Galahad?

Everyday is a roleplaying game made flesh— Wake-up and assess the damage. Out of the corner of my eye looms my health bar. I down some potion and refill mana. My magic is elemental: ice and fire. Pack my bag: load up on elixer and fenix down. This boss battle will be EPIC.

My extreme sport is getting out of bed.

Prepare yourself for random encounters.

Play rough and never give up.

Let pain be your guide

Life doesn't have a safety word.


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Palliativity 107: What Does’t Kill You…

Posted on November 24, 2010

what doesn't kill you

For 2 years I've been self-injecting lidocaine as my only means of direct pain management that is not a narcotic. M357 is merely the void. My other meds are like background-radiation resonating from the initial injury; god's white-noise machine, his hand fumbling for snooze.

Every drug claims a part of me. It's time to take it back.

< }•[•]•{ >

I had my first Prolotherapy treatment two days ago. The underlying concept is built on the function of  histamines and the body's immune-response. When the body detects damage, whether illness or trauma, histamines are released and the chain-reaction begins. To heal, the affected areas become inflamed which results in higher blood flow. It always baffles me when Western and Eastern medicine speak the same language.

Prolotherapy intentionally provokes the histamic reaction. My body has settled into its current state; chronic pain is not recognized as an antagonist. It has literally become a part of me. The concoction injected is comprised of saline, lidocaine and sugar. The catch is that in order for the treatment to work I can't use ice, ibuprofen or M357. Disarmed, I scan the perimeter for the next attack.

I feel like I'm stuck in another MRI, unable to move and hoping that temporary suffering will help me find new hope. How does it feel? Like a knife jabbed into the side of my neck. Inotherwords? Not as bad as normal. The difference? I know that this pain I feel is a wake-up call to the system. This is a shock-and-awe campaign. We have an intruder among our ranks and the only solution is to

cut it out.


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Palliativity 106: Medicated

Posted on November 18, 2010

Medicated : one week


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Palliativity 105: Dysphoria

Posted on November 11, 2010

dysphoria :/

I grew up with people asking me, "what are you?". I got used to it. I eventually learned not to play that game. To answer is to agree with the underlying assumption that I am the anomaly; an object of fascination that should be hunted, stuffed and installed in the great-room curio of a Victorian naturalist.

I was told that I'm half Japanese and half Jewish. For the observer, this genetic algebra equated to a whole person in their neat and tidy world. I wasn't put in a box. I was sliced in half; subdivided and subjugated, and yet I carry twice the heritage and just as much angst. I wish people could deal with me as I am— instead of where I need to be filed.

I've received the same type of treatment when I'm in treatment. My humanity is something rarely touched on. I am my affliction. My name is Miss Diagnosed.

I have been defined by many labels; prepackaged for mass consumption. My identity is pending investigation. We waive all responsibility if contents are damaged in transit;

I won't apologize for my existence. I am proud to be complicated.


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Palliativity 104: Scar Tissue

Posted on November 4, 2010

scar tissue

Family means everything to me. I'm not just talking about blood, it's the connections we make in life that can never be broken; the unweathered well deep in our hearts.


For a couple of years, death encompased my life. Enough tragedies can blind you and break you down. Lost in the wilderness, I blame the trees for the forest.

Drunk driver

For my partner and I, the beginning of our relationship was steeped in death. The deep cuts healed us together, stitched at the heart. The greater the damage, the stronger the bonds: scar tissue that I know you saw... Looking at one another, we can see the jagged pain as well as the joy. We learned to accept life's contradictions.

The symptoms and proffered cures however are another matter—


‡ Δ ‡

Tragedy can become a chronic condition if we merely tread water. Assess the damage and heal strong. Destiny doesn't pull punches, so why should we?


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