Its raining. It's Wednesday and I am on my third day of treatment for a disease that has been quietly killing me for 30 years.

On the May 24th weekend 30 years ago I ruptured my spleen while quite pregnant and needed 10 pints of blood to save me and my baby. All my adult life I pictured ten wonderful loving souls who gave "the gift of life" to me.

Turns out I had to be greatful to a guy named Bubba in a cell somewhere in the good old USA who was selling his tainted blood for cigarette money. It would be really funny if it wasn't so serious.

I discovered I was infectedin 2004 and so, for the last eight years I have living the on the roller coaster that comes with this sort of challenge. Fortunately I love to sleep because I am doing alot of it. I discovered that anti-depressants are yummy. The seratonin buzz really makes life worth living. I can't work anymore so I get to sleep as late as I like (see sleeping again it will be a re-occuring theme.)

So, more about me. I am 54 years old, mostly a writer, a mother and a wife and a child of God. I am counting heavily on the latter these days. I am blogging this journey because every one who knows me says "oh you should write this all down" Like pulling a rabbit out of my..... anyway.... One of the worst parts of dealing with Hep C is that you feel very alone with the disease. IF you have breast cancer you can't spit without hitting a survivor or a network or something. There seems to be something quietly shameful about Hep C I always feel compelled to tell people I got it through a blood transfusion. Like it take some of the stigma off it. Well that is my hangup isn't it. There isnothing shameful aboutbeing ill. No matter what the problem or how you got it. I have always believed that for others so why not for me?

Note to self: Work on that one.

And so this is my journey. Through the darkness into the light on the other side. Fasten your seatbelts, its going to be a bumpy flight.