Blog Archive: September - December 2024
31 December 2024. I'm not about to bore everyone with what had to be the worst week of my life's thirty-five hundred weeks, but let's just say I can't imagine it having been much worse. It started with a stomach virus on, of all days, Friday the 13th. (Bad things always happen just before the weekend. Always.) I made a nurse appointment on the following Monday. Tuesday (New Years Eve Day, for those not keeping track), she called and said that management had rearranged everyone's schedule, and that she would see me Tuesday instead. Tuesday afternoon rolled around and I received notice from her that she had resigned the company. Meanwhile I was suffering a stomach affliction the likes of which I'd never known, and I was suddenly left high and dry, by everyone, friends, family and professionals alike. No sense calling their office, as I'm certain it was pure bedlam. I did call on Thursday, just for shits and giggles, and was told the earliest I could be seen was Saturday afternoon. That would have left me gravely ill for over a week.
Pharmacies? They can all rot in hell (most especially CVS): it took three days, three days, three days to fill an emergency prescription.
By the time Nurse Number Seven did finally show, I'd determined it wasn't a stomach virus after all, but instead acute intestinal blockage, and that I was at risk of serious infection. Long story short, I gave the company (via the nurse) a tongue-lashing you would have felt in Utah. Checking in at 148 pounds, I can barely lift my head, and after nearly two weeks without food, it'll be a while before I can stay out of the wheelchair. Oh, and for those keeping score at home, I have an appointment with Nurse #Eight this afternoon. And, believe it or not, this is the top-rated hospice care company in New Jersey. I. Kid. You. Not.
And just to pile it on, my computer has given me two weeks notice, and is then going on permanent strike. I should ask a numerologist if there's something special about 2525...
2 December 2024. A long, seemingly infinite time ago, this was me, in a place I called home. In the image, I seem at once contemplative and restless. In reality, this was only seven years ago, and that deep, thoughtful expression is actually the face of someone suffering a migraine. Still, it says a lot: it shows where I've been, what I've accomplished, and what I've lost. Anyway, friends were concerned that I hadn't posted anything new in a month, so I thought I'd put any worries to rest... for the time being. I am doing quite poorly these days, failing at most anything I've attempted to do to keep what's left of my mind engaged. Quite often I find myself hunched over the keyboard in a semi-comatose state, surprised to find the keyboard still functional after cleaning up the drool it sometimes accumulates. This is my reality, folks. I have what one would call a "home," but in fact it's just a box I sit in, waiting to... well, you know... I no longer feel as if I have a home—that place is long ago and far away.
Incidentally, I have not been idle. My latest attempt at constructive distraction is making Nanodreams, which are ridiculously small dioramas built inside tiny glass jars. I've also been assembling some new tunes. More of both is in the works.
12 November 2024. This dying shit is worse than watching paint dry. Still dragging my ass from one day to the next. Still wondering when it'll just fall off already. For those keeping track, I've completed (for real this time) the second season of Lightspeed Drifting, which officially brings the series to a close. Sadly.
29 October 2024. Still here. Still hiding from humanity. Still wishing it was all done with already—the waiting isn't killing me. (That's a joke, by the way.) I'm spending my time trying to figure out where I'm going wrong: I'm working on my animation, and everything I do gets screwed up. The simplest things turn to garbage. It would be nice to have something go right for a change.
18 October 2024. The days keep slip sliding away' just like the song; indeed, the stronger I set my resolve on keeping up, the sloppier the timekeeping progresses. So I guess I'll revert back to ad hoc, as it was somewhat less stressful, and I need more stress like I need a job, a move and a marriage, and Lord knows these images are stressful enough as it is.
12 October 2024. I feel like an ancient Model T sputtering to a stop. A lurch here, a backfire there. Although most of my questions about that strange full-of-holes Sunday evening have been answered, there are yet some gaps, a few things that don't add up, and a lot of pain martializing in odd spots, like my ribs. With the pain I feel, I should think I'd be all black and blue, but for the most part, my skin is clear.
I've begun having friends over for "one last time "visits. Boy is this hard.
8 October 2024. What? Again? This is getting absurd. But it is true. My "faithful" computer has demonstrated once again just how truly "unfaithful" it can be by crapping out on me. Yes, again! I am ready to put it out on the curb and letting the squirrels have it. But seriously, folks, it was just the mouse battery. That bloody thing eats through batteries like they were candy. So hopefully I can get back to regular posting, and not freaking out my readers. You'd think I was at risk of having a heart attack or something...
6 October 2024. Yes, I know for a fact that I've mentioned being one post older. It's one of those Givens one simply cannot escape. The thing is, if I was a smoker, my home would reek of cigarette smoke, and my book shelves would be overflowing with "joys of smoking" books meant to make my last days on the planet filled with.... joy! And yet how absurd is that? I suppose people will find anything to justify their existence. Even cigarette smoking. Sure, how about that: target smoking?
See, the thing is, I had an absurd experience of my own whilst awaiting the bus to get here. I awoke on the floor, blood all around me—not gallons of it, mind, but enough to be somewhat alarming. I fully expected alarms to be sounding next. But... no alarms. Just my friend Al. He found me crouched on the floor in a state of mild terror.
"What have you done with my cigarettes," I repeated.
The utter absurdity of the question shocked me back into reality. And from there it became a twenty-questions game that morphed into a "What have you done with my drugs?" puzzle that soon involved my nurses, the police, Al's wife (my ex-wife), and who knows who else.
When reality forced us back into the here and now once more, I realized that, not only was I on the floor in a puddle of my own blood, but that about a dozen heart medications were well and truly among the missing. But wait... Just another day in the life of a cop, I guess.
Oh, it all got sorted out, eventually. Nothing stolen, no one injured, well, except for a couple of minor scrapes and bruises. Oh, and yes, some jumbo-sized shrimp. These will be stories retold for generations to come. (Or not.)
5 October 2024. I may have mentioned it before (and I apologize if I have), but New Jersey is one of ten states in the US of A that provides the option for one to take one's life. In New Jersey it's referred to as PAM, or Physician Assisted Death. I plan to begin inquiring about it. Not planning to carry it out imminently, but simply to learn about it: what is involved, how much my hospice service participates, etcetera. I heard a casual comment some time back that the hospice is quite actively involved, and so naturally I want/need to know the degree of their involvement. I could not imagine anything more comforting than to be supported to the degree that all I'd need to do is choose a date. At any rate, regardless of the actual process, I must still also involve my friends and relatives, because some of them may wish to be present, and that will involve some discussion. The time will come soon enough.
4 October 2024. It was not deliberate, trust me. I just got my days all mixed up, and missed today's post. And my phone almost exploded. So the "system," such as it is, "works" inasmuch as certain messages went out to certain individuals expressing concern. I am, as one might tell from this post, that I'm fine, or at least as functional as one might hope, at least. And while I cannot, in my current state of mind, make any assurances this won't happen again, I will do my best to keep such flunders (is that even a thing?) to an absolute minimum, lest I be accused of crying wolf.
3 October 2024. It must be somewhat comical to watch me walking the halls of the trailer, as I bounce from wall to wall like a pinball machine ball. All you need are the sound effects. Of course, in context, it's not funny; it is my life. And the photo? From a lifetime ago, back when I had friends and routines both familiar and different.
2 October 2024. And the days keep ticking by. And somehow I'm still here. I'm at a loss as to how that remains the case. I do not feel grateful for existing. What is it about existing that warrants gratefulness? There's that age-old phrase about being glad to be alive. I guess there's something very wrong with me, for I've never felt that. If anything, being alive has to me felt more like a burden, almost a curse. These are thoughts about which I very rarely speak, for they never land on understanding ears.
1 October 2024. Having just gotten yet another new drug, I have a strong suspicion this will lead to yet another new drug: I now have chronic hiccups. I've heard of some drugs doing this, and that there are drugs to control it. Hey, so what's one more pill to take? I'm already downing over a dozen a day...
30 September 2024. It's a curious thing: my daily posts have never been topic-restrictive, that is, there's never been a theme or a subject that's either been off-limits or mandatory. I allow myself total freedom: I can post about any subject matter. That total freedom, however, has never solved the problem of writer's block, when in fact one might think it would be a kind of permanent cure for it. All of which is to say there are days when I stare at the keyboard expecting, or hoping, some topic might magically spring from it spontaneously. Alas, I yet have days like these where the only thing I'm inclined to write about is the fact that I have absolutely nothing to write about. Ah, and here comes Pris to save the day, sitting at my feet giving me an endless supply of topics. Alas, they're all in "cat," and although I've lived with these wonderful creatures my entire life, I've never mastered the skill of writing in their language. Would that I could, though; what fascinating stories I'm certain they'd tell...
29 September 2024. I thought I knew depression. I've had chronic depression my whole life. This is something new, something different. I can't say that it's worse. All I can say is that I feel weaker, like I'm much older now. Wishing someone would stop reminding me of it all.