A call came in from the doctor, I was to pick up a prescription to replace what my bum thyroid can no longer do and Wally had an appointment in geriatrics. The waiting room in the geriatric clinic was busy. A large woman with no throat, I had heard her tongue was removed along with other things and dying of cancer was there in a wheelchair. A wheelchair so large it was difficult to get it through the doorway. Everyone there was nearing the end and that includes me. The thyroid, then?
It was a long fucking wait. They were busy, a lot of folks are dying nowadays. Another lady who lived here for forty years but originally was from Massachusetts and pronounced her r's in that strange kind of way was there talking to us. Attired in pajamas and house slippers. She has great grandchildren and wasn't sure what the word dementia meant. I know what it means first hand.
I have to talk to a doctor in tranquilest. The doc talks to Wally, Wally smiles, blinks and then the doctor will glance at me and I'll answer. It's as if I had my hand up Wally's ass pulling his smile, blinking his eyes and saying his answers. He needed an EKG, another appointment with his regular doctor to have his cholesterol checked and an appointment with the hearing clinic. Blood work, try not to nap, cut his half of an Aricep tab in half again to wean him off the memory drug and, I don't know, try not to get depressed.
How the fuck do you not get depressed in Death's waiting room?
Do I dare pull a "Forrest Gump" quote here -- a la Sally Field -- or would that be cruel? Fuck it -- I'm an asshole, sometimes...like now.
ReplyDelete"Dyin's just a part of livin'."
And to be honest, whoever made that quote up ought to be shot for putting it out there for me to use in so vicious a fashion. It's because I'm listening to Enigma's "MCMXC A.D." -- "The Principles of Lust" trypitch.
I can understand why you ride a bike everywhere. It's healthy, and it's freedom. Be well. Be proud of yourself. Be lost in the future. You have a hundred books left to write, and off of which to make no money. I can see it. Seriously, stay lost in the future.
What's keeping me alive is that I want the thyroid pills to kick in so I loose enough weight to once again kick Steve Bradwich's ass. He beat me on a small hill climb today, and gloated. Now he must die.
ReplyDeleteIt does make one feel better to have a goal. Thanks!