1/22 from “I Wore the Ocean in the Shape of a Girl”

Morphine makes me weightless, airborne.

GodDAMMit, stop giving it to me! STOP! It makes me lose control…

Makes

it

hrrrrrder to

fight

THIS.

I can, must, fight this. Like the heart attack, I’ll come back. Back again, healthy.

Stop.

Stop doping me. I need to control this. Have.

To.

Control… Get better. For Judy. She’ll die without me. She needs…

Sonofabitch, I… I was going to live forever. For EVER. Those asshole doctors said possible remission. Probable! Others beat lung cancer. I’m as strong as… I’m stronger.

Listen you, I’m in control here, God.

ME!

God I want a cigarette.

Let me go, stop putting that shit into my veins.

Wait… Who’s calling? Who is…? What does she want? What do you MEAN, “You can’t see her?” She’s right there. What’d you say? Don’t patronize me you little shit.

Please, just let me go. My own way.

Please.

Stop drugging me.

It’s time.

Time to…

•••

For dad.

Roxanne’s choice of opening sentence for this week’s class promises to generate some more creative and off-the-wall writing. She chose Kelle Groom’s book I Wore the Ocean in the Shape of a Girl.”

~ Master Class 2013

27 thoughts on “1/22 from “I Wore the Ocean in the Shape of a Girl”

    • Thank you, and yes, my dad, my grandfather, and for all I know, my great grandfather as well. I’m hoping I can break the cycle, and just go out with a smile.

  1. In working hospice, I’ve watched a lot of people fade into a morphine haze, and I always wonder if this is what they’re thinking. Thank you for speaking for those who can’t. This is wonderful.

    • God bless you for being with Hospice. A wonderful and (oddly enough) life-affirming organization. With dad, I couldn’t always hear the words, but I “saw” what he was thinking.

  2. The way you used spacing, language and emotional heft really made this mind blowingly related and readable. I love what you did with the beginning.

  3. this broke my heart…this made me feel the way we all do, when we don’t have a handle on our feelings or our bodies. While I know that you wrote this for your dad, the voice perfect, the struggle palpable, it could be said of anyone of us that are being given things we don’t want. Our hands tied behind our backs, our decisions made for us…and the end near.

    I shed a few tears reading this…it touched me and made me want to reach out and tell you that I’m hurting with you. Your dad …he loved this..if only because you said the things he couldn’t

    hugs my friend.

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