So, went shopping, grocery shopping, and David needed this case of some soda . . . scene: David tries to get low enough so he could pull a case of soda out. "Wait," I say. I bend down . . . and yeah, real struggle to get it out cause the cases were real heavy and pushed to the back of the shelf. But I got it out, tossed it into the cart and . . . fuck. I can't breath, I can't move. All I can do is lean on the grocery cart and try to catch my breath. Moral of the story: Get one of the grocery clerks to lift heavy shit into the cart.
Saturday, November o9, 2o19
Oh, goodness. Last night after the Smart Saver's Grocery Store Massacre I went to Art Walk . . . murder on me. Man, I just couldn't walk a few steps without stopping to catch my breath. FUCK! So, had David drive me home early. I just laid on the couch. I knew I needed to call the hospital "hotline" but I fell asleep . . . and woke up this morning feeling . . . pretty good. I called the hospital anyway and told the doctor on call what happened. She said if I felt ok then I should just take it easy until my appointment on Monday . . . BUT if I did feel really crashed I should get down to the hospital and get a transfusion.
Sunday, November 1o, 2o19
Yes, I did. Woke up angry about this country and its fucking politics. And I'm made that everybody thinks they know what America is all about, all those Facebook friends want to lecture me on what the USA is ALL about. Folks not Ameircan. I've listened to you rant and rave about America, about my generation, how my generation elected Trump, and how my generation won't do anything about global warming . . . and all of what you say is bullshit. Me and my generation have been actively working to change things in this country. So, don't go on telling me what you know about this country I live in because you don't know shit. WE got Trump elected? Shit you attitude, your stereotyping me and my generaiton? Shit you sound just like Trump and his fucking mindless minions.
Monday, November 11, 2o19
Not writing much tonight. Lots to think about before I put my thoughts into the computer blog. Had a meeting with the doctor and I asked her the question I should have asked on the first day: "So, will I beat the cancer with this treatment?" She looked a bit shocked. "No." She said it with great authority. "You'll be taking this therapy for the rest of your life." "Oh." "I did tell you that there was only one cure for the type of cancer you have . . . " "Bone marrow transplant. "Yes, which at your age . . . " "I wouldn't survive the cure." "Yes."
Tuesday, November 12, 2o19
3:21 in the morning/and my caffeine haunted/mind cant help but/calculate just how/many 3:21s in the/morning my eyes/have left, how many/beats my heart has left?/My consciousness/will wander off someday,/will run off someday/chasing its shadow like/a dog chases a cat . . ./there will be a time/when I call after him, and/he doesn't come back.