Apparently old habits die hard. I woke up around two o'clock this morning. Went to the bathroom, crawled back in bed, only to discover the kitten peed on my side of the bed. Now my wife feels bad for bringing the kitten to bed. I feel bad because I don’t have a dry place to sleep. But most important of all, the kitten fell gently back to sleep. Seriously, how could you get mad? The vaccinations had made her lethargic all day. Anyway, what’s life without an accident or three.
Yesterday started out pretty good. My blood sugar was fine, my pills went down without a hitch, but then all hell breaks loss. Without going into vivid detail, my gut decided to “carpe diem”. After nearly a week of reasonable digestive health, I suppose old habits die hard. As you may know I had three biopsies done a few weeks ago (negative). In two weeks, they go down the other end for a pipe inspection, and then I get an abdominal MRI. Not that I don’t enjoy a good mystery, but after two years, this book getting a little old.
I suppose I could just lay here and whine about all this shit (pardon the pun). But after 21 years of living with the paralyzing fear of death. You get used to it. I don’t mean to sound so blasé about it, but it is what it is. One of the most interesting side effects of my first Panic Disorder medication was diminished emotional response. While now that most of my emotional responses have returned, I wonder if a little of that Paxil still isn’t buried in my brain? Either way, life is still important enough to fight for, even if it means forgiving a few kittens along the way.
Yesterday started out pretty good. My blood sugar was fine, my pills went down without a hitch, but then all hell breaks loss. Without going into vivid detail, my gut decided to “carpe diem”. After nearly a week of reasonable digestive health, I suppose old habits die hard. As you may know I had three biopsies done a few weeks ago (negative). In two weeks, they go down the other end for a pipe inspection, and then I get an abdominal MRI. Not that I don’t enjoy a good mystery, but after two years, this book getting a little old.
I suppose I could just lay here and whine about all this shit (pardon the pun). But after 21 years of living with the paralyzing fear of death. You get used to it. I don’t mean to sound so blasé about it, but it is what it is. One of the most interesting side effects of my first Panic Disorder medication was diminished emotional response. While now that most of my emotional responses have returned, I wonder if a little of that Paxil still isn’t buried in my brain? Either way, life is still important enough to fight for, even if it means forgiving a few kittens along the way.
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