surgeons

Final Exam

death
When I first began writing this, I was tucked into bed at seven p.m., hoping to be asleep soon. As I take my notes from last night and begin to type them into the computer, it is 4:34 a.m., and I've been awake for an hour. The headaches that have been dogging me for months have intensified their barking in the past couple of weeks. Pain and nausea are paired, and the pain in my face simply changes shape when I swallow the Vidodin I was prescribed on Friday. I have been trying other pain medications—and they haven't been working—so strung out from pain, I broke down and accepted the doctor's offer to write a small script for opiates until I can get in for my CT scan, which is scheduled for later this morning. (My history with opiates is not a good one.) The Vicodin has made me feel sleepy and sick—and relieves the grinding ache in my head for only 45 minutes or so.

I could pop these pills every hour, chasing the dragon of relief, but ironically, the Vicodin gives me a headache—it's in a different part of my head—a pressure that feels as if the inside of my skull is a pneumatic piece of rubber dangerously overinflated. I'm not really having a lot of fun with this, but distraction seems my only real coping mechanism. And so, I've been reading and reading. By my count, five books in a month, plus who knows how many magazine articles, online articles, and blog entries.


Lorraine's picture

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Words to live by


These new-found tensions which are present at all stages in the real nature of colonialism have their repercussions on the cultural plane. In literature, for example, there is relative over-production. From being a reply on a minor scale to the dominating power, the literature produced by natives becomes differentiated and makes itself into a will to particularism. The intelligentsia, which during the period of repression was essentially a consuming public, now themselves become producers. This literature at first chooses to confine itself to the tragic and poetic style; but later on novels, short stories and essays are attempted. It is as if a kind of internal organisation or law of expression existed which wills that poetic expression become less frequent in proportion as the objectives and the methods of the struggle for liberation become more precise. Themes are completely altered; in fact, we find less and less of bitter, hopeless recrimination and less also of that violent, resounding, florid writing which on the whole serves to reassure the occupying power. The colonialists have in former times encouraged these modes of expression and made their existence possible. Stinging denunciations, the exposing of distressing conditions and passions which find their outlet in expression are in fact assimilated by the occupying power in a cathartic process. To aid such processes is in a certain sense to avoid their dramatisation and to clear the atmosphere. But such a situation can only be transitory. In fact, the progress of national consciousness among the people modifies and gives precision to the literary utterances of the native intellectual. The continued cohesion of the people constitutes for the intellectual an invitation to go farther than his cry of protest. The lament first makes the indictment; then it makes an appeal. In the period that follows, the words of command are heard. The crystallisation of the national consciousness will both disrupt literary styles and themes, and also create a completely new public. While at the beginning the native intellectual used to produce his work to be read exclusively by the oppressor, whether with the intention of charming him or of denouncing him through ethnical or subjectivist means, now the native writer progressively takes on the habit of addressing his own people.


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