excerpts: Two Kinds of Decay: A Memoir
by Sarah Manguso
My mornings were occupied by bathing, eating, drinking a protein drink, having my central line dressed and flushed by the visiting nurse, and exercising pathetically little with the visiting physical therapist. After the fourth or fifth hospitalization, I remember just lying in bed for hours every afternoon. I had too much to think about to do anything else. It must have looked as if I weren't doing anything, but I was very busy.
. . . .
I believed, though, that I would stop secreting antibodies forever only after I had intercourse. And though I looked worse than I ever had in my life -- thanks to steroids I was fat and swollen, covered in acne, and had a gruesomely round face -- I knew I would have to go through the humiliation of finding a man who would agree to have intercourse with me.
. . . .
My existence shrank from an arrow of light pointing into the future forever to a speck of light that was the present moment. I got better at living in that point of light, making the world into that point. I paid close attention to it. I loved it very much.
. . . .
A crow stands outside my window all day, reminding me of the best thing about my life -- that it ends.
Sarah Manguso suffers from a rare autoimmune disorder. She wrote her memoir during a long period of remission.
by Sarah Manguso
My mornings were occupied by bathing, eating, drinking a protein drink, having my central line dressed and flushed by the visiting nurse, and exercising pathetically little with the visiting physical therapist. After the fourth or fifth hospitalization, I remember just lying in bed for hours every afternoon. I had too much to think about to do anything else. It must have looked as if I weren't doing anything, but I was very busy.
. . . .
I believed, though, that I would stop secreting antibodies forever only after I had intercourse. And though I looked worse than I ever had in my life -- thanks to steroids I was fat and swollen, covered in acne, and had a gruesomely round face -- I knew I would have to go through the humiliation of finding a man who would agree to have intercourse with me.
. . . .
My existence shrank from an arrow of light pointing into the future forever to a speck of light that was the present moment. I got better at living in that point of light, making the world into that point. I paid close attention to it. I loved it very much.
. . . .
A crow stands outside my window all day, reminding me of the best thing about my life -- that it ends.
Sarah Manguso suffers from a rare autoimmune disorder. She wrote her memoir during a long period of remission.