I’m sitting in a coffee bar, knocking back strong caffeine and trying not to scratch my swollen and slightly blistered eyelids. I’d mulled over writing this blog about my time journeying in China but I thought fuck it…hopefully I’ll never be talking about hepatitis once this course is done so I may as well spill out my end of treatment angst (and itching) one more time.
I mean hey, life without using #hepc, I’ll need to find something to fill the gap.
Amazing how easy it is to attach yourself to an appellation and live around that for years without realising it.Now I have had my revelation and my time flogging this diseased horse is near an end I need to either choose to settle into soft stomached middle age, or rapidly find some new windmills to tilt my lance towards.
So I’m drinking coffee in a technicolour Lebanese Restarant and writing in time to frenetic music whilst trying to evade guilt that I’ve spent a portion of next January’s travelling money on a minor (for some) or major (for me)spending binge.
I will not hopefully, be a disease carrier in two weeks so I deserve new winter clothes (well TK MAxx) rather than my usual charity/eBay finds.
I have this niggling suspicion that I have lived my life as if I may drop dead any minute, which hasn’t been a bad attitude in many ways, albeit a slightly short sighted one. Whilst I was living in a drug fuelled tunnel, it was a sensible approach, but post drug use this bloody (no pun intended) virus created an excuse to validate the long term adaptation of the ‘live today…’ philosophy.
I suppose I could construct a plan regarding my new life approach (scratching my increasingly reddening weeping eyes under my nighttime sunglasses) but for now I’ll settle for knowing I need a new plan and trying to sort out this bloody itching.
Above Image of Charlotte Rodgers at the opening of ‘Rust, Blood and Bone’ photographed by Gerard Hutton