I Miss Your Mail
I MISS YOUR MAIL!
Ui cha cha, ở đời tìm người biết viết “e-mail” cho có hồn (chứ không phải cho ra hồn) cũng khó hè. Đó là phần số cô đơn của con người...
Nhớ ngày xưa bác nói tui già là vì “nếm hết hương vị” nên không nostalgie “yêu đương, gởi gió cho mây ngàn bay...”, hình như vậy phải không?
Vẫn chỉ làm một việc, việc đạo.
Thời buổi chi mà lạ, suy nghĩ không kịp thời sự chi hết nữa, đủ mọi mặt!! Cứ đem chuyện xưa ra ngẫm nghĩ thôi!
Reply: Có hồn khác ra hồn. Và đúng như thế cô đơn là phần số của con người, nhưng gặp được người hiểu được mình, thì cũng đỡ đi được, nhẹ đi được. Có lần tôi hỏi thăm You về ông xã, là vậy.
V/v nostalgie… ngày xưa, ý này của You, không phải của tôi. You viết, đàn bà có con là quên hết, tình yêu đàn ông dành hết cho con, đàn ông, đến chết vẫn khổ vì gái. Đúng như thế.
Đạo. Tôi về già, mới ngộ được 1 chút về đạo, vậy là cũng quá mừng rồi.
Ui cha bác thức dậy sớm.
Cũng may có chữ nghĩa núp vô đó nên những cái bực mình của đời sống gia đình, đời sống hàng ngày nó cũng... tiêu tan! Vì mình có nguồn vui này quá lớn, nên mấy chuyện kia kệ nó, cầu toàn chỉ khổ. Ông chồng ngây thơ, thương vợ-con-cháu hết mình.
Đàn ông thì “thảm” cho họ thôi. Camus nói rồi, làm Sisyphe và hạnh phúc khi lăn hòn đá là nhất rồi!
Cơ huyền của tạo hóa làm sao dò tìm được!
Reply: Đàn bà còn đau “What Doesn't Kill You Hurts Like Hell”, đàn ông đâu biết, vượt cạn 1 mình….
Tks. Take Care
What Doesn't Kill You Hurts Like Hell
Ask Me about My Uterus: A Quest to Make Doctors Believe in Women's Pain
By Abby Norman
(Nation Books 272pp £20)
No matter how hard doctors try to measure it, pain is a subjective experience. None of us really knows what someone means when they say they're in pain, given that what is agony for one person might be bearable for another. But it is clear from this memoir that Abby Norman has endured extraordinary levels of pain, forcing her to become an expert on a subject many people would shy away from.
The book begins in 2010, when Norman was in her second year at Sarah
Lawrence, a prestigious liberal arts college fifteen miles north of New York City.
She is from Maine and a family so dysfunctional that getting a place at Sarah Lawrence was a major achievement. Norman's mother was anorexic, so absorbed in and ravaged by her own illness that she couldn't care for her daughter; what she did do was impose draconian rules about food, leaving Norman perpetually hungry and forced to forage for scraps from other children's lunches at school. Norman went to stay with her grandmother at the age of twelve, but that didn't work out either and she eventually moved in with a sympathetic teacher.
I hadn't heard the phrase 'legally emancipated' until I read this book, but it refers to a minor who has in effect divorced her parents, which is what Norman did in court at the age of sixteen. It isn't a step many teenage girls would know how to take, let alone ask a judge to sanction, but it is clear from the early pages that Norman has a rare degree of intelligence and determination. After such a struggle to get to college, the fact that she was struck down with a mysterious and devastating illness during her second year, putting an end to her hopes of graduating, was nothing less than tragic.
Norman suffered from endometriosis, a condition usually defined as tissue from the uterus starting to grow in other parts of the body, principally the ovaries and fallopian tubes, causing agonizing pain. But it is clear from Norman's own experience and the mass of research she has done that much about it remains mysterious. Endometriosis wasn't even talked about much until fairly recently, when a handful of well-known women, including the novelist Hilary Mantel and the actress Padma Lakshmi, began to speak and write about their own experiences.
Because it is poorly understood -and, as the book reveals in excruciating
detail, doctors don't always listen to their patients - some of the health professionals who treated Norman looked for other explanations of her pain. Hence the book's title, which emerged from the frustration of being treated for psychological problems when she sometimes felt so physically ill that she thought she might die.
In the absence of a unified public healthcare system, she had to look for doctors who would accept her as a patient on Medicaid. Casual references in the book to threats from debt collection agencies speak volumes about living in a country where access to cutting-edge medical treatment depends entirely on money.
It's understandable that Norman is interested in the history of medical neglect of women, although some readers might find the passages about Freud's theory of hysteria well-worn territory. But she writes about the experience of pain more vividly than anyone I've previously come across, so much so that there were times when I had to put the book down.
'Bodily agonies that do not end beget a kind of forced intimacy with pain,' she says at one point. Her book is unusually candid, giving readers a sense of what that terrifying and unsought intimacy might be like.
To order this book from the Literary Review
Bookshop, see page 27.
Cái đau này khủng khiếp lắm. Đàn ông đâu có cancer vú, có mà hiếm hiếm lắm!!
BHD mất vì bịnh này, do làm bác sĩ đặc biệt, bị nhiễm phóng sạ….