The Two Kinds of Decay

Metaphors

My blood plasma had filled with poison made by my immune system. My immune system was trying to destroy my nervous system. It was a misperception that caused me a lot of trouble.

All autoimmune diseases invoke the metaphor of suicide. The body destroys itself from the inside.

I secreted poison into my blood. The poison was removed and replaced with other people’s blood and with chemicals.

With my own blood in me, I couldn’t feel, and I couldn’t move, but with other people’s blood in me, and with chemicals in me, I could do those things.

The new blood became mine as soon as it entered me. Or maybe it took a moment to mix with what was there. Or maybe it took an hour, or a day.

My blood came out dirty and went in clean. It came out hot and went in cold. It came out old and went in new.

And the new, cold, clean blood was better than the blood I made myself.