Jason & Susan

"I’m given a life that meanders and goes nowhere—months of aimlessness, nights of misery!
I go to bed and think, ‘How long till I can get up?’ I toss and turn as the night drags on—and I’m fed up!
I’m covered with maggots and scabs. My skin gets scaly and hard, then oozes with pus. 
My days come and go swifter than the click of knitting needles, and then the yarn runs out—an unfinished life!"

"God, don’t forget that I’m only a puff of air! These eyes have had their last look at goodness.
And your eyes have seen the last of me; even while you’re looking, there’ll be nothing left to look at.
When a cloud evaporates, it’s gone for good; those who go to the grave never come back.
They don’t return to visit their families; never again will friends drop in for coffee."

"And so I’m not keeping one bit of this quiet, I’m laying it all out on the table;
my complaining to high heaven is bitter, but honest.
If I say, ‘I’m going to bed, then I’ll feel better. A little nap will lift my spirits,’
You come and so scare me with nightmares and frighten me with ghosts
That I’d rather strangle in the bedclothes than face this kind of life any longer.
I hate this life! Who needs any more of this? Let me alone! There’s nothing to my life—it’s nothing but smoke."

These are the words of Job and the thoughts of Jason.

The difference between terminal illness and chronic illness is that the former has an end, the latter sees no end. But both suffers immensely. And it sucks.