How I envy that axolotl! It looks so peaceful down there.
I have yet another doctor’s office visit tomorrow, and I’ve lost track of who’s doin’ what. I would think the job at hand is to replace my broken hip, but what do I know? All it does is hurt all the time.
Much of my trust in medical personnel has been erased.
Please pray for me.
This lizard’s in better shape than I am.
I am still shaken up by that doctor’s pronouncement of doom on me, and it interferes with my thought process. It was only yesterday. Reach for the sky, boyo. Time to start lookin’ for a grave site. And so forth.
Meanwhile, I’m lucky if I can write anything at all. For those of you who crave Joe Collidge, Byron the Quokka, and Oy, Rodney–well, I’m sorry, but there just ain’t any oomph in me today.
I’m sure I don’t know why, but I find a degree of comfort in this song. I’m looking at a wide river now. Will the Lord carry me across? And what will I find on the other side?
Father, if I ever needed faith, I need it now. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
No one on the beach…
So the first doctor today said everything’s looking good; but then came Dr. No. 2.
I’m not going into details; they’ve already begun to turn into a blur. Suffice it to say the news was much worse than I expected. The grim reaper has me in his sights.
I’d better not say too much. But I thought my friends and readers ought to know.
And that’s all I can say for now.
One of the first hymns I learned to play on my harmonica: O Worship the King, sung here by Maddy Prior and the Carnival Band.
And now it’s time for me to run around seeing doctors and not getting any better.
Wow, I’m so late! And all because nothing seems to work as it should.
Doctor’s appointment: sit there and wait for an hour… and then some.
Computer: Hahahahahaha! As they try to stuff me into the straitjacket.
Doctor won’t allow me to eat fresh fruit. This has been going on for two months. I am not the better for it.
Computer screw-ups ate up at least an hour.
Physicians and computers… Tell me again: these are supposed to enhance our quality of life? No lying now! Let’s have the truth.
I fell asleep this afternoon, I won’t be here tomorrow (at the freakin’ hospital again!) so I thought I’d say so, just so you know I’m probably all right (unless they make me disappear).
Here’s a song you probably know from Babe. Here it’s used as a hymn to celebrate God’s creation of heaven and earth and all things living.
It’s a reminded that can do us good.
I have a “Pet Scan,” whatever that is, scheduled for tomorrow; and beyond that, another consultation with some doctor or other (I can’t keep track).
This is hewing away at my sleep, and I do wish the rain would stop.
Keeping me stuck in a gurney for eight hours, and bringing a highly contagious patient into my room–not to mention blasting my sleep wide-open several times a night–these and other details, I’m not likely to forget.
Where am I going to wake up Wednesday morning? Are they going to shanghai me? Suddenly I find trust has become an issue.
I wish I had a bodyguard.
Now my thing is dreams about being dragged back to the hospital, no escape. I have another “test” coming up just this week! Following a day of “dieting,” of course. Nothing like having something to look forward to.
It’s been raining all weekend, so I can’t sit in the sun and calm my spirit.
I have just found out today is Father’s Day. Last time we visited my dad for Father’s Day, we played stickball.
Nobody left for that anymore.
I know my output has been skimpy lately. I start running out of energy around noontime. It’s this damned bug we picked up at the (LOL) “rest home.”
Looking back, I see it’s been practically a whole year since I’ve been healthy. Radiation. Chemotherapy. Shave (?) the prostate gland. Poking a tube in and out of the smallest opening in the male human body. Colon surgery. Bad dreams galore. Sleep deficit. And they haven’t yet tackled my busted hip.
I want to ride my bike. I want to play basketball. I want a cat. Are these forever out of reach? I want to get back to work on my books. How wrong is this?
(All right, turn off the self-pity! Information is one thing, moaning another.)