I’m not feeling well today, and Patty has arranged to rush me off to a doctor. I am very tired of seeing doctors. And for all that, I’m still sick.
A good night’s sleep would help me, but I can’t seem to find one.
I hope your prayers keep coming in. I need ’em!
Okay–they’ve shaved (?) the prostrate gland, they’ve taken 100 little stones out of my bladder, they’ve cut me loose from the catheter, and nuked the rectal cancer, adios muchacho.
No, I’m not done. But they checked out my bladder today, pronounced it to be almost up and running… and now I’ll have to wait a while before they operate on the colon cancer. I need time to recover.
And the hip surgery is lurking somewhere down the road.
But I need time. I had a terrible night, last night. I don’t know when they want to go after my colon. The nurse today said, “You’re good to go.” Well, everybody knows more about this than I do.
Keep the prayers coming, folks.
And here we go again!
I have another doctor’s appointment tomorrow. I had a howling nightmare last night that I can’t remember. And by and by, maybe in April, a colon cancer operation. But only after I’ve recovered from these others.
I’m supposed to be getting better. Why, then, do I have a dread of being hauled back to the hospital? Why do I think that’s going to happen?
I have to rest today. Have to! Confound it, I’ve got books to write!
We’ll see if I’m still here tomorrow.
Please keep those prayers coming.
I need some restful sleep. I need for my mind to STOP manufacturing silly s*** that scares me.
Like last night, for instance. I dreamt I was out on the sidewalk trying to talk to people, but they just ignored me. Along came my old friend, Jim–at last, a friendly face! “Jim! Jim! Boy, am I glad to see you!”
But he neither saw nor heard me. Just went on his way.
Maybe I was a ghost and didn’t know it.
So, yeah, I’m worried about my immediate future, I need your prayers and am not ashamed to ask for them, and I’d like to get back into the visible world.
Meanwhile, I guess it’s time to move on to the nooze. Calloo, callay, O frabjous day…
I’m having some trouble getting over that “prostate shaving” procedure, so Patty phoned the doctor yesterday. I was afraid of being hauled back into the hospital for more slice ‘n’ dice, but they only warned me to take it easy for some days, give myself time to heal.
Well, all right! I’ve been ordered not to exert myself.
What about writing, though?
One thing about blogging–it can, and does, take your mind off your physical afflictions. (Well, so does interpretive dance… but who needs that?) This morning I suddenly had enough gas in my guts to inflate the Hindenburg. It has since left me. The point is, I’m in need of relief–and in need of prayer.
Oh, my, look at that! 11:11. One more blog post, I guess. I seem to be running out of gas.
I wish my Grandpa was still around to read to me.pray
This whole business of morphing into a sick, feeble old man has really got me down. It’s not like being sick and staying home from school when you’re ten years old… and the doctor COMES TO YOUR HOUSE (!?!?), examines you. instructs your mother and father what to do, writes out a prescription, and bob’s your uncle. Meanwhile you’ve got all these wonderful books to read, and your mother brings you a glass of ginger ale.
But that’s all just a vision of the past, like none of it ever happened.
I’ve been in the cross-hairs since June. It’s preying on me. I have a novel that has vanished into the Blahsmos, gotta do the work all over again. Nobody at the hospital ever taught me how to attach the freakin’ catheter, so I’m surely doing it wrong.
Anyway, I’m standin’ in the need o’ prayer, as the old-time spiritual says: and if God wills it, I’ll get better. Amen in Jesus’ name, Amen.
I had rather a bad night last night: kept dreaming about being carted off to the hospital again. Which is scheduled to happen this coming Friday–I can’t seem to stay away.
And today I found out that our dear sisters, our fellow soldiers Erlene and Phoebe, have had to be hospitalized. Please pray for them!
But what’s the story here? We’re not such a numerous group: three casualties is a bit much for us to bear. Has something or someone evil got it in for us?
Please, Lord Jesus, protect us. Please, Lord Jesus, heal us. Our deliverer is mighty: we call upon Him now to defend us. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
A collection of bladder stones. I hope mine are smaller than these.
I won’t be here tomorrow, but please come and visit anyway: lots of stuff in the archives that you haven’t read yet.
I will be busy having bladder stones removed. I don’t know whether they’ll send me back home when it’s finished or keep me overnight. But it’ll be a relief to have one more thing taken out of the way before I move on to colon surgery next month.
Sometime this year I’ve got to do something about Ozias, Prince in Peril. I may have to re-type the whole thing: I don’t know where my finished manuscript went, or even if it still exists.
Please continue your prayers for me. I still have a long way to go.
Well, the courier earlier, and just now the visiting nurse, have come and gone. There will be another courier and another nurse this afternoon. It seems that every time my wife and I get a conversation started, there’s another knock on the door, another gadget planted in our living room, another robot demanding our immediate attention…
Being seriously ill is hard work.
There’s still the colon cancer to deal with, and then the broken hip–God knows how long this stuff will take. I still have a touch of chemo brain, which makes me forget all sorts of things I shouldn’t be forgetting. It’s hard to concentrate.
And it’s hard on Patty. Being the caregiver is always hard.
Keep the prayers coming, folks. We need them.
All night long I cleaned up messes, and then the next day they keep my at the doctor;s all day… and how was your day?
I am utterly exhausted., They tell me to forget tomorrow’s Chemo & Radiology therapy. I wish I could remember how to type.
Please pray for me.