After our Book Group I drove to the DQ and ordered a hot dog with sauerkraut n mustard.
Ya know what? I like it more than the sweet things.
One end of the bun was so soggy, I had to carefully lift it up into my awaiting mouth. I sat down on the bench to do dis. Usually I take a walk about. After the hot dog had been stabilized I decided, since no one was looking, to climb up the steep slope behind the parking lot.
Stood up there, munching and enjoying, and then walked slowly down.
Gosh that was fun. I'm a real fan of slopes.
I get home. My sugar is over 200, so I'm ready to jump on the bike when my former client John calls me. It's been months since he's called.
I stay aboard the bike for half an hour, thinking my sugar will be normal when I get off. Instead, it's gone up. Then I play the horrible game of injecting too much and it goes low. It was 41, which is terrible. Ruth, I say, if you don't get some goddamn food inside you, you're gonna die.
Ate 2 cartons of Chobani yogurt, it was all I had - and I'm stuffing myself with Triscuits - I finished the remaining Glucose Tabs (6) and then I spotted my candy bars on top of the fridge.
My heart dropped when I saw what kind they were. Yuck! I gagged em down. HORRIBLE.
So my former client John tells me a story. As he put it he has a love-hate relationship with a woman. I give him advice, and he says, That's exactly what Mike L told me and the many other people he talked to.
Common sense. Anyway, I may use that relationship to write my next short story.
There's a small chance my novel - whose name I've never mentioned - may be published. I'm hoping for the best.
Dr Armstrong is on the left.
Just looked up his CV. You will not believe all his accomplishments.
My appt was at 7:45 am. YAWN YAWN YAWN
Made sure I listened to my audio book in the car
Our book group met at 2:30 pm and I still had a couple hrs of listening to do.
I had a black eye the size of a dime below my right eye. Armstrong said he'd never seen one like mine. Usually, he said, they're IN the eye.
Hematoma he called it to the aide Samantha. As we age, he said, our blood vessels - capillaries - get thinner and more fragile, leading to possible bleeding.
It's nothing to worry about, he said.
At the ND meeting thother nite, Ada said I should wear my warm purple sweater to the doctor since it matched my 'shiner.'
And Armstrong said, It matched!
He also took my eye pressure, which he said to Samantha, was 16.
He's an expert in cataract surgery.
Is that good? I asked.
Yes, he said.
Later on, I thought about all these weakened capillaries and felt a momentary panic.
An explanation of the below poem. I knew I wanted to write a poem about my father in honor of his bday. I could not let the occasion go. FINALLY, I found time to do it.... like now!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD, May 4
Harold, Hal, Hershey
the legends in our lives
called you, like Evelyn
Hy, Selma, and of
course, Mom, who you
She tried to save you
goodness knows as you
lay for months in that
goddamn bed, fading
like the summer sun
My heart was bleeding
out I'd miss you so
playing for you
The Pajama Game, My
Fair Lady and reading
you the New Hope Gazette
as your tumor grew like
poison ivy through
your brain. Chopsticks
was a favorite song on
the piano, we played
hands, your cigarette
breath mingling with
Sloppy Joe in the kitchen
You left me! Who
can I call out casually
Hey Dad! Dad! the way
I call from the other
room, Ma! Hey Ma!