I didn’t think he was listening. He asked how I lost all the weight. I told him I had a bad break up with my live-in girlfriend. I had constant gas pains and heartburn if I ate more than half a sandwich. I stopped eating at the Burger King just down the hill. I had conquered the munchies with fruit. He said, no, I mean what diet were you on. I told him I was on the get depressed and develop stomach troubles diet. He said he had lost 30 pounds on Atkins once. He now looked like a tub of lard.
I choke up when it comes time to give the toast. I would like to give a toast since it is my birthday. I turn to catch her eye and raise my glass.
Here’s to Jo. She keeps me going. She has stayed two years with a man who had it easy and now has it hard.
I could not have made it without her presence. She can always stay.
She is Irish, a beauty with red hair. I say, “You are the prettiest flower in this garden,” as I look around the clinic with 20 more women milling about.
“Thank you, that was nice.”
Last week she told me that she was going through a nasty separation. I think she might be rich. I have a girlfriend, but I always keep my options open. I am not the man I once was, but I am as good once as I ever was.
In the sixties all you needed was love.
In 2018 I need love, medicine, money, cell phone, more money, and a weapon. I have all of these. True love from Louie, my dog. Medicine from various healers. I don’t work anymore but love to spend money. My love life and my cell phone need a charge. My weapons are a BB gun, a shovel and a frying pan.
I have it all for now.
We are not yet married but she has already assumed the role of one who must be obeyed. I cringe when she talks of pain in her back and my world spirals down like a Netflix horror movie. As we lie in bed, the sheets move and bad smells happen. She does sometimes say excuse me in a creepy voice.
We speak. She says, “the dog is peeing on the coat you left on the floor. You are a slob.”
We are looking forward to marriage.
Doctor, sometimes I just want to go ahead and kick the bucket. I have no purpose. I don’t even feel like making whoopee anymore, not with my girlfriend anyway.
Stephen, you are too much. You are eating too much. And not exercising too much. Your purpose in life for at least the next two years is to get in shape for your kidney transplant. Sure, the last two years have been tough, and you have to be tougher. Get in shape. Take your meds. Fight for your life.
Thank you, Doctor, how much do I owe you? Somebody call 911– I’m having a heart attack.
My father’s assisted living home smells like poop. My father has been fading for five years. He now says very little. He will have a chocolate, a piece of fruit, a stiff Vodka Tonic. After his first sip he will say “this tastes good.” I have to keep the conversation going, and I talk about my girlfriend or my health issues. He does laugh and make expressions. He thinks I am a little nutty, like my mother and her Mother. He enjoys my visits.