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No One Brings Me Flowers

Flowers on grave

 

NO ONE BRINGS ME FLOWERS

(My journal entry from Friday, 10/10/14.)

I won’t let you kill me. I won’t!

That is the first thought that I had this morning. I mean, the first recognized, hard thought.

What sucks is, I am talking to my colon. To myself. Yes, it sucks.

It’s a long story. I suppose that someday the silly thing will end me. But in the meantime, I must fight it.

It is my colon. Why is the thing so mean to me? I mean, I do not drink any measurable amount of alcohol. A drink or two over the winter holidays does it for me. I do not smoke, don’t do drugs – never was one for that. I changed my eating habits way back at like 29 years of age. And they’ve progressed slowly over the years to become even better. What the hell. Once, I went a whole year without any soda. I haven’t eaten a McDonald’s hamburger-anything in 16+ months.

Still, the bitch is trying to kill to drive me crazy.

Maybe I should not call it a bitch. I wonder if it knows what I am thinking. I mean, who knows what the other 90% of our brain is really doing. I would think it could heal. Maybe kill. Maybe both.

I don’t want my colon to kill me down the road. Maybe there’s not much we can do to stop such things from happening. Maybe we can only follow precautions that will slow what may be the inevitable.

Anyway, on October 31st, I will turn 45. I’m pretty sure I was 30 only a few days ago.

I think it’s my environment that has made me sick. Most everyone who knows me personally knows how I feel about where I live. I’ve been stressed and upset for so long now that any good that enters my life now may not be enough to save me.

Save me. No one can do that. Not even the doctors. I’ve asked doctors, nurses and other health professionals what to do. How to make my colon tame again and normal? There’s not much. Same old advise. I’ll have to find another way.

I know there are many others our there sicker than I. I try not to complain. But like an emergency room nurse said to me, “This is yours.” Yes, it’s mine.

It’s mine, and one day in the not too distant future I’ll have no one at all to share it with. No one to come with me to the emergency room. Or to stand outside the bathroom door while I vomit until I see stars. I don’t what I’ll do then.

The Gods never saw fit to send me a gem. I know I’m hard to please, picky, stubborn… But at some point in my life, there had to have been someone…strong enough.

Well, it does not matter now. I’m sure he’s long gone. I just hope he didn’t end up as lonely I have been.

As for everything else… After my Ganymede left for the Rainbow Bridge back in February, I’ve been sort of down. Oh, yes, there have been highs and lows, but now, some days are a struggle to get through. I don’t want to be sad. It’s not good for my colon, and the Diverticulolis. It can egg on Diverticulitis. This is a fact.

Where’s my knight in shining armor? When will someone bring me flowers? When I’m dead? Since Dad died, no one brings me flowers anymore.

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