Like the phone strap, this body is not mine.

My body is not under my control — all the lab work suggests it is wearing out faster than I want it to. I fear that at the current rate of wear it will become useless to me sooner rather than later, at least sooner than I am ready to part with it, while I still need it. This body is not my own because it will depart from me on its time and not on mine.

The body is not under my control: If it were it wouldn’t be showing signs of inflammation, there wouldn’t be flagged CRp tests, elevated antibodies, high cholesterol and high iron. If this body were under my control, there wouldn’t be these classic signs of wear. Signs that cause me to worry that this body is in danger of breaking.

But the reality is, I can’t count on having this body going forward. The presence of bacteria and viruses and chemicals in its environment are causing it to shift into inflammatory states. The genetic defects, already present in the body at birth, are causing high cholesterol. The exposure to toxic food and drink and air has contributed to changes in the cells of my body, causing them to be autoreactive.  If this body were mine to control, to even use as I see fit, its use wouldn’t be altered by pesky shit like genetics or diet or environment. It would simply continue to run like a well oiled machine.

At least, if this body were really mine, I would know exactly what was wrong. It wouldn’t just be mystery markers. I wouldn’t need to wait for more information, I would just know right now what was wrong. I would then be able to fix it. Because if this body were mine it would be within my power to ensure that that it stayed with me, at least as long as I needed it. It wouldn’t simply be able to decay and get inflames and autoreactive and diseased on its terms. Terms that are definitely not my own.

Is the body constant or inconstant: Clearly it is inconstant. The blood tests were all normal before, they have changed only in the last few years. Pelvic exams were all normal before, a new growth appeared on my cervix in the last 2 years. If the body were constant, I wouldn’t be waiting on more results, on new changes, that would clarify the nature of this body’s disease. If these markers were constant, everyone with them would have an autoimmune disease, or a clearly cancerous polyp, there wouldn’t be so much variability between people and labs.

Is what is constant stressful or easeful. Obviously super stressful. I am so afraid of these changes. I am afraid of what they mean. I feel confused. I want to act, but don’t know what to do. I am working hard –fasting, changing diet, to try and change my body back. Or at least keep if from changing any further. But the uncertainty of the results of my effort makes them even harder. I am, constantly, stressed out.

And is it fitting to regard something that is inconstant, stressful and subject to change “mine”, “myself” or what I am?

Urggh I so desperately want to feel no in my heart. Till then, here is my thoughts:

I didn’t always have this body, there was a history of this world before I was born. The body is something I acquired. What is more is I will definitely lose this body in the future. It doesn’t matter at all that I don’t want to lose this body. It doesn’t matter that all these signs seem to indicate the possibility that I may loose this body sooner rather than later, at least sooner than I had hoped. Sooner than I imagined. Well before I think I am done needing it to have the life I want, the life I imagine.

Even while I have this body to use, to call my own, it continually slips into states I despise, i.e. states that create laboratory markers that stress me out. States that embarrass. States I believe are decidedly not me: Just look at all the sagging, the pimples, the bad haircuts, the eye bulge, the weight gain, the pain and the illness.

I try to dictate the outcomes of this body, I struggle to preserve it: I manage the diet, the exercise, the meds, the sleep. But despite both my desire and my efforts, I can not control the outcome. In fact, my efforts often have the opposite effect of my desired outcome –moving my body into states of dis-ease and decay. Or I am forced to make tradeoffs –meds that decrease one risk but increase another for example. In spite of all my efforts, my work and my stress, in the end this body will reach a state I can no longer use it. Then, ready or not, it will depart from me.