I have to write something, you want to read something. And I have no idea what I want to write. I am, quite simply, burned out. Every night I take a beating in bed. Flattening damn mattress, and I have (I think) PAP. The night-cramps while laying down are killer. It feels like getting shot in the leg. I wake up shrieking a bit, and I've had to tell the wife to leave me alone unless I croak out her name.
There now, wasn't that exciting and entertaining? Maybe I'll describe my stool to you later...No? You're really missing out, but okay, I guess. Your loss...
I'm really getting sick of people asking me 'how I am'. If you've been paying attention, I've told you already!!! It's like people think I met a Saint, and she got another tick-mark in her book of miracles that the Vatican keeps until you get enough to get made into a saint. Like S&H Green Stamps. Ain't gonna happen. Oh, a miracle could occur, but God doesn't always let you live, especially not assholes like me.
I won't take a liver that could keep someone worthier than me alive. Plus, surgery just gives me the creeps.
What, too cheery for you? Shit, I could drop like a rock tomorrow. Guys my age who go to the gym, and jog, drop right in the middle of the golf course. Or fall face-first into their soup, and make no bubbles.
I have a great deal of pains and uncomfortabilities, but I can feel the prayers coming at me, because I have good days, too. And don't let my passing test your faith. I've got a bus to catch, and unless the Ticket-master tells me different, sooner or later, I have a one-way ticket to...well, wherever.
When those doors hiss closed, and the gears engage, I'm just gonna sit back and laugh, and laugh.
I expect at least a giggle from you.