Yesterday I visited the hospital with N, to see a friend of his who is probably dieing from cirrhosis of the liver, combined with a few other issues. N didn't actually get in to see him, because he was just waking up and was very emotional after visiting with his immediate family. I guess that's how it is when you're not sure if you're going to wake up again every time they give you something so you can sleep. N was good friends with this guy for lots of years and they enjoyed many diving trips, party nights and Ja only knows what else together. It's very sad for him to see J in this condition; everyone is powerless to do anything for him except to pray and to be there to see him through the ordeal. I feel badly for the guy; I met him only once but he had a very good energy. He is one of those people who I liked immediately. Apparently, he had that effect on lots of people and was quite the ladies man in his day. Anyway, he's 51, and this might be the end of the line, and there is something profoundly frightening about that to me. After we went to the hospital I called my brother Kenny and talked with him for half an hour. Seeing J's daughter brought back many old feelings for me, from when I was in the hospital waiting to find out if my own Dad was going to pull through (he didn't). I felt like all I could do was call my own family and tell them I love them.
1 comment:
Yuck. Creepy. It's funny, people white knuckle it on planes but the liklihood of dying on one is very small. Yet people smoke and drink every day and never think for a second that it's absolutely certain to kill them, and in ugly ways like this too. Weird. I'm not a grateful alcoholic. If anything I'm a hateful alcoholic. Times have been very hard the last few days and weeks. Yesterday I nearly picked up again for no other reason than that I felt like it.
A friend told me I had to eat my 90 day chip first and I seriously considered doing just that for like an hour. Can I swallow it whole and survive? How many pieces would I have to cut it up into in order to get it down? Yikes! Stinkin thinkin! Every time you mention your father I get a yucky feeling. I'll never forget those weeks we spent waiting. As fucked up as I was all the time back then I remember that. It was awful.
I quit riding right after that and never rode again but once or twice.
Post a Comment