Sick

Mum told me a joke today. Was it really a joke? She laughed while she said it, so it must be a joke. She said she has gotten so thin that when she went to the washroom yesterday and pulled up her  pants , they immediately fell down again. That was a joke, right? Literally, a sick one.

I told her we have to go buy new clothes, because the likelihood of mum regaining the ten kilos or so she lost over the span of a month or so is slim, at least in the near term, if ever. But she just said she has some clothes from long ago that may still fit.

Not long after that joke, she vomited again. I quickly handed her a 'barf bag', one of many that I now carry with me at all times whenever we go out. Every time I see her throw up, no matter how many times I see it, it affects me so, it hurts me so!

There was a heavy load, again coloured brown from stomach juices. She tried to put it away, but was struggling to do so due to her the deteriorating flexibility of her hand and fingers. So I grabbed the bag from her. It felt warm... Sickeningly warm. I was in the middle of eating a box of sushi I got on the go, and I lost my appetite. What got into me that I started to toy with mum's bag of vomit before I threw it away? I cannot explain a lot of my behaviour and thoughts these days, for they puzzle and baffle me too. Perhaps being so very close to illness, seeing symptoms and signs of it every single day, makes me not flinch any more when I look at vomit or even feel it with my own bare hands. Really, after a while of cleaning up bodily fluids or excrement, nothing seems to shock of disgust you any more. You become numb, it seems. The human body is only so much... only just made up of the food we put in, and the waste that comes out, either through the mouth or the backside. What else is there to all of this?
Or perhaps I am no longer disgusted, because the pain of seeing someone you care about and love so dearly overwhelms any feelings of disgust or discomfort...