Thursday, 25 March 2010

the writer, the actress, the singer and me

Finally got to meet the other trialists in my group this week. They have been randomised to the Alemtuzamub and until now have just been the voices next door. Last March,  as I sat on my own with my steriods and rebif I could hear them in the room next door, getting dosed up, chatting, laughing. It was their party and I wasn't invited. Well, I'd been invited to sit next door which was worse than not being invited at all. It was like arriving at school on Monday morning and everyone talking about the party they'd been to on Saturday night and you'd known nothing about it. Or maybe that just happened to me. And here it was being replicated 30 years later.

And so I arrived full of indignant intent like it was their fault...I'm cool. I'm good. You're all pals and I'm just the outsider on the cheap gear. Just ignore me. You stick with your posh drugs. Don't share them with me. I'm just fine and dandy.

And then they ruined it. They were all really friendly. Open. Chatty. Even the writer who said she was  a bitch wasn't at all. After a few hours I knew more about them than I know about people I've known for ages. Everyone a different story. Every experience listened to. Every answer respected. Stories of love lost and stories of love found. It was beautiful and I'm welling up now.

I have no idea where this has blog gone...don't be ill on your own I suppose. No, be ill with interesting people. That's the answer. Maybe I should start an ill-friend finder website. Find your perfect ill partners.


  1. Like a dating site for people with illnesses? I wonder if that exists, but I've thought of that too. I'm not implementing it any time soon though, so feel free to go for it! I would be happy if you tried in the mean time and let me know what you thought of it!