Every day, between yesterday and tomorrow - 1
Today marks for me an involuntary first anniversary: on this day last year a doctor told me I had Grave's disease, an autoimmune condition that tricks your body into telling your thyroid it has to work harder. Much harder. I had never heard of Grave's before. Needless to say, the name itself wasn't very conducive to inspire optimism. What's in a name, anyway? In this case, not exactly a projection of the outcome, specifically speaking, but the name of a hard-working innocent Irish guy who discovered the disease in his patients almost 200 years ago. I was told that although not curable, its symptoms can be kept in check by way of surgery, radiation or medication. I chose the latter, not so much because I chickened out fearing the invasiveness of the first two methods, but rather because as always I was optimistic and thought that something cosmic would click in me, and I would get fixed up the easy way. (I'd had to fight for my life before, although never the easy way, and found that the human body is much stronger and more able to self-heal - given the right conditions and attitude - than I thought it to be.) One year later, things are looking up, but I am still waiting for that cosmic click to materialize. The truth is, the cosmos will only cooperate self-indulgently, in a sporadic non-pattern. So when I wake up in the morning I still never quite know which stripe I'm going to get assigned today!
Today I am starting a new set of daily photographs. These will be quiet and sometimes abstract meditations on slower moments in life.
