illness

I once knew a woman who was obsessed with things like men not believing women, men not trusting women, and so on. This woman lived with her husband but they were separated. She was seeing other men but lived with her husband because she didn’t work and had no other form of support. She said she couldn’t work because she had too many health issues… she was always seriously, critically ill. Always messaging to say that she had come close to death, she was in hospital, they didn’t know if she’d pull through. I always wondered how she managed to send such long, detailed messages from her deathbed whilst in a life threatening coma. Even more strange than this was the fact that she somehow would make it out of the hospital during the evenings and go drinking with her friends and would post photos on Facebook of herself holding a glass of wine and laughing in the street as she lifted her skirt to show her underwear. Then, the next day, the poor thing, she was back on her deathbed, having organs removed and cancer treatment, and blood transfusions and treatment for some new and unknown disease. It’s a pity that her husband and other men never believed in her. It’s a pity that her husband used to get upset about supporting her whilst she lived in his house and spent the nights out drinking with her friends and lovers. I wonder if she ever discovered her greatest and truest illness.