So I’ve been reading a lot these letters that people I know post about
god, or the existence of, or not.
So I wanted to say something. Because I am feeling exactly the same
fucking parallel pain that I felt in March of 1998 driving down the
Mass Pike. And it’s really kind of lame. It is stiff, it is shooting, it
socks me when I feel like I just might be getting better.
“God” is not some one-man job sitting up there making decisions. If it
were so, I would call god a motherfucker. But, incidentally, I do
believe in some energy-exchange, whatever you might want to call it.
Now, I do know I have failed by jumping on and off the positive energy
wagon, on multiple multiple times. I also know that I was on the verge
of hitting bottom lately, and that by doing so, I was inevitably closer
to stresses that would result in my hospitalization. My heart is a very
interesting thing, and today it just feels like it has been sputtering
and kicking all kinds of bullshit pain, socking me in the chest. I no
longer have the ability to stand up without feeling it. Now, I am
afraid, oh yes, very very very afraid of having to jump head-in to a
surgery.

So I am going to wait it out tonight. Probably to wake up fresh and
frisky in the morning to visit the ER, where I will inevitably
come out one of two ways. Now the first way is certainly not more
forgivable than the second, but there is obviously a bit more tangible
loss in one over the other. The real issue is really in that I, if I
were to make it through this crap, would then be indebted several tens
of thousands of dollars to medical heaven, which chooses to open it’s
gates only to those who possess health insurance. Now, I do have health
insurance. I pay three-hundred dollars and some a month to have
it.  I am only (!) responsible for 10% of the total costs of
surgery! But if you look at your average open heart surgery cost, it
makes it unevenly disgusting to ever think about how would you
ever have 4,000, let alone 40,000 to just be able to exist. It’s really
funny, and I have had to think about this–simmering in the back of my
mind for way too many years now. But I swear I never really thought I
would have to really really sit inside this thing, and contemplate what
I really do want. I mean–forget this. I was just starting to get it
together.

I can admit that I have done many many things wrong. I have not chosen
to listen to that little diddy in the back of your head that says, go
for it. I was afraid, it’s true. But, I am really really trying.

But in no way can you convince me that this was  “god ” doing this.

I hope hope hope that this is all a sick joke I can wake up from in the
morning. I don’t like feeling like this. I don’t want to feel like
this. That familiar shooting pain can bite me. I even
said yes on a few transcription jobs in some sick attempt at pretending
I was normal. I do need to have a way to pay the bill, after all. HA!

*Sorry, kitties, about the unanswered cell phone. I can’t take it right now*

Sorry for the morbidity. I am hoping I am just suffering from ‘well
person dementia’, when you get sick and can never imagine feeling well
again. I’m trying. I really really am. And I would never bother posting
anything, except to acknowledge I knew what was going on. I promise
this will be the last morbid entry related to this–I hope.