#sickness
My brother visited for a few days and was gonna go back to his place tonight but ended up in the hospital just an hour before his ride came….
He randomly fell while packing then had a GOD DAMN seizure????
He’s never had a seizure before.
While I was holding his head steady, he was spitting up foam and blood and was completely out of it after. …
He didn’t even know who I was or what happened. I told him so many times but he had no idea what I was talking about.
He’s OK now n coming home…but what the actual fuck??? None of the doctors even know.
His blood sugar was low and blood pressure high—yet neither of us have any history with seizures or anything like this…
Please send him good vibes.
anime: eromanga-sensei
episode: OVA 2
Help yourself
What is wrong with me? I feel like no one needs me. I’m so lonely. I fuck up everything and everyone. I’m so useless and I’m sick of it.. Give me one reason why should l stay alive..
Just keepin it fresh down south y'all….
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28.02.20 / Sometimes it’s just time to chill a bit
I’m good, by the way, just feeling like drawing some oldies
“Because all living beings are subject to illness, I am ill as well.
When all living beings are no longer ill, my illness will come to an end."
Vimalakīrti Nirdeśa Sūtra
Imagine a sick man confined to a tiny room, visited by countless beings who somehow manage to squeeze inside. While obviously not practicing social distancing, the Buddhist story of Vimalakīrti’s sick room is particularly relevant to our present pandemic.
Continued: https://unityinplurality.blogspot.com/2020/05/sick-room-contemplations.html
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The most prolific of poets in Edo period Japan, Matsuo Bashō set aside his aristocratic literary career in favor of a shaven head and rag robes during contemplative pilgrimage, his dreams wandering withered fields while sick and dying.
Continued: https://unityinplurality.blogspot.com/2020/05/wandering-dream-fields.html
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time for a few hours of what i call Flu Queue, in which i lie in bed with the lights turned out and the blue shade on my computer all the way up and make a whole bunch of gifs while taking more painkillers than the allowed dose
This is a letter to anybody and everybody who has felt ill and weak before, whether it be physically or other. Allow me to start by saying that in no world are you alone. You may feel alone, however, but you aren’t. I am here for you. There’s a whole community, in fact, of people that understand.
Don’t let anybody tell you that you are faking this, because that is not the type of person you are. You would never fake an illness. You couldn’t stoop that low. In illness, you learn who is on your side and who is not. I for example, have learned that Eric is on my side. Well, I knew that already, didn’t I? But I also learned that some are not on my side. Some tell me that I’m making it up or that I’m trying to get attention. Some simply ignore me, not wanting to face the fact that I am indeed dying. You learn who really cares for you and who doesn’t.
You start to think a lot when you’re sick, too. You do a lot of thinking while you’re not at work or school, or while you’re lying in bed in too much pain to get up and start the day. You think about things like life and death. You think about the people you don’t want to leave behind. You also think about how little you’ve done with your life, how you could’ve done so much more. Maybe you think about if you really are going to live or not. Sometimes you don’t know. Sometimes you hope for life or death, other times you see the benefits of both, and view either way equally.
Your body begins to change as well. It’s like reverse puberty, almost. Any want for making love is gone and your eyes have sunken in and you’ve grown paler and grayer than usual. Your nails hardly grow and your hair is thinning, if you have any left. You can either see your ribs or your stomach is growing. You either grow fat or thin. Sometimes, but only sometimes, is there a grotesque middle ground where your arms and legs are horrible, but there’s a flab of loose skin and fat bunching over your hips. You seem to have permanent dark circles under your eyes that no amount of sleep can get rid of. You don’t look like yourself.
Let’s not forget how easily you cry, too. If you miss a show you wanted to see or you’re hungry or tired, you’ll cry all too easily. It will either be small dribbles of tears or large racking sobs. It’ll start with once a week, then twice a week, then once a day, then multiple times a day until you’re either sleeping or crying.
Your dreams will range from either the happiest things to the darkest of nightmares. Sometimes you’ll dream that you’re healthy and alive. You’ll wake up feeling empty and will probably fall into the large racking sobs that I have mentioned previously. Other times you’ll dream that you have died and that your family is crying over your grave. You’ll also wake up weeping. It’s a lose-lose situation; you’ll wake up in tears no matter what.
Oh, and the pain and agony! You’ll be in constant pain. Perhaps it’s all over body pain, or abdominal pain or perhaps your chest will ache or your head will feel so pressured you wish it would burst simply to put you out of your misery. Perhaps it’s emotional agony. It all depends on your specific illness. Either way, it’s awful and crippling and you only wish it could end. I mean, what a simple wish. Why can’t it just be granted?
The way I’m describing this, it sounds awful. That’s because it is. But somehow it will get better. You will be healthy again somehow, whether that be in an afterlife or not. You’ll be happy again, and you’ll smile with your loved ones, whether that be in an afterlife or not. You’ll weep healthily and sweetly and you’ll frolick once again, whether that be in an afterlife or not.
It’s hell. All of it’s hell. But it will be heaven once again. The worst part is knowing that you once were healthy. Why did this have to happen to you of all people? You’re a good, innocent person to some degree. But it’s all a game of slots. That’s what life is.
But keep your head up, please. Allow nature to take it’s course, in one way or another. Do not end your life while you still have a chance. No matter what the doctor says, no matter what certain people in your life say, you still have a chance because you’re strong and strong people do not back out of things easily. Live on.
Sincerely,
Alan Humphries
Agata, acrylic on linen, 2020
Source image: “Illustration of Agata Lapieruz who lost her nose, upper lip, and bottom half of eyelids after being afflicted by ‘reddish patches covered with tiny blisters that soon dry up and flake off’. Rapidly changing form and location, the sores eventually formed crusts and attacked the soft flesh of the face.”
From the National Library of Medicine archives. Labeled as syphilis.
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Work in progress. Acrylic and charcoal on canvas. 16x20”.
Source: “Patient with tuberous leprosy. Extracted from Leprosy In Its Clinical & Pathological Aspects by Hansen & Looft, John Wright and Co, Bristol, 1895, Plate III.” - Wellcome images
Earrings, acrylic on canvas, 2019
“Among chronic diseases, Syphilis is the one of greatest frequency and highest importance. Few physicians are incompetent to treat the disease successfully when its nature is apparent, but there are many who are unfamiliar with its most characteristic forms. The surest diagnosis is that which is based solely unpon observation; and it can be safely asserted that of the numerous and varied symptoms of Syphilis, there are none which point so unerringly to a specific origin as do its cutaneous lesions.” - George Henry Fox, Photographic Illustrations of Cutaneous Syphilis.1881.
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My website is all up to date with my newest and oldest artwork. Please visit!
Posed, acrylic on canvas, 2019
“Case 27. Lepra Macula.— Aged 14 years. Presented herself in my clinic at the Charity Hospital, February 28th, 1888, with the following history: Born in the Fifth District of this city (Algiers) and has always lived there, attending one of the public schools.”
Source image (right picture) from Leprosy in New Orleans by Henry W. Blanc, 1889.
Posed, acrylic on linen, 2019 (bottom right image is of the painting’s first layer, bottom left and top right are finished)
Source image (top left) from Leprosy in New Orleans by Henry W. Blanc, 1889:
“Case 27. Lepra Macula.— Aged 14 years. Presented herself in my clinic at the Charity Hospital, February 28th, 1888, with the following history: Born in the Fifth District of this city (Algiers) and has always lived there, attending one of the public schools.”
After I’d had my gallbladder removed, some dude offered up the completely unsolicited and bonkers advice that I could heal myself with prayer. He volunteered that if I repented of my sinful ways - the results of which were my gallstones and the subsequent failure of my gallbladder - that I could regenerate my lost organ and become whole again. He said that God’s benevolent love would not only return to me my missing gallbladder, but would remedy the loss of the appendix that exploded when I was 18 and the cancer I was probably going to get from all the premarital sex I was reveling in. He then, without asking, put his hands on my stomach and proceeded to appeal to the Lord to cure me of my ailments, provided I lived a good life from that point forward and stopped leading others into the arms of the devil by my dark example.
I was reminded of this very real moment this morning, because I realized that this is exactly how it feels to talk to Republicans about healthcare.
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P.S. My gallbladder did not grow back.
