I may have temporarily lost my enthusiasm but as I write this I’m waiting to see what my cover artist comes up with, finalizing my blurb, and finishing some minor editing on– heres’ the ironic twist–my romantic comedy, CLEO’S WEB.
All my mother has inspired me to do is to be as much not like her as I possibly can. So maybe she has inspired me and I’m thankful for that.
Boy, I’ll tell you, when I get home I am going to step up the exercise routine. I can’t stand the idea of getting old and weak.
I can be sympathetic and empathetic, but when people don’t do anything to take care of themselves, to take the reins of their own lives and health and well-being, then I wonder why I should help them when they won’t help themselves.
God forbid you should reimburse people who take their valuable time to assist you.
I went through Dad’s desk. He gave me copies he had of all the lab tests, etc., that have been run on him over the years, some MRI result reports. I would like to get this Dr. Sub’s records also. Maybe Sacry has those. I will ask. Yesterday I went …
When you moved away I thought I’d die
But all it meant was I gave you wings to fly
AZT was the only drug available early on, and what followed was years of bouts of illness, hospitalizations, the loss of his eyesight, his teeth. Addiction recovery. Social Security Disability.
I drove Maxine’s car and commented on what a nice ride it had and asked her what year it was. She said “Oh, I don’t know. 1957?” We chuckled at that. (It’s a 1998 Oldsmobile 88 with under 50,000 miles on it.)
The choice became to go see her now while she’s still alive although she has no idea who I am or wait until I get the call about her funeral.