Whose life is this that I have walked into? There are pill bottles, PRESCRIPTION pill bottles, all over the kitchen counter. And a heating pad. There is medical body piercing in my arm. There are stacks of ornamental sleeves in the closet with which to cover the medical body piercing. There is a shower sleeve longer than my leg in the bathroom for the medical body piercing. There are four 3-ring binders entitled EOBs, Research, Medical Records, and Resources that are filling up fast.

There are wigs in the closet.

This is like some bizarre science fiction movie. (Twilight Zone Music please). I'm getting to be on a facial recognition basis with the pharmacy tech at Wal-Mart. I get snail mails and emails and PHONE CALLS from support groups. I haven't seen the inside of my office in days, and I haven't been on a kayak in a month. And as final proof that this cannot possibly be my life:

wine no longer tastes good.

Where is the woman who owns this life and would she please come retrieve it so that I can get back to mine?