It's nice to hear from you again! I am so glad to hear that something I wrote made you laugh out loud Hearing that made my day too, so thank you for sharing.
You know, if the clock ran backwards things would only be getting better. I think the happy people are those people for whom things get better when the clock runs forward.
We all know time isn't a two way street. Someone a very long time ago had the great idea to make time a one way street and I think I just turned down a dead end, or rather my wife did. Darn, should never have allowed her to drive. It's going to be a miracle to make a U-turn now.
Death row doesn't just exist in certain prisons. When the hospice nurse arrives she is going to seem like the grim reaper to me. Wouldn't surprise me to see her carrying a scythe over one of her shoulders and dressed in black. What's she going to tell me? Hello, I am here to help your wife die comfortably which just means doping her up, doesn't it?
I wonder if it is too late to become an oncologist for me? I bet I would have better luck carrying in a tray of wheatgrass with a bag of organic carrots along with my juicer.
Next stop, Egor's castle to perhaps enroll in a clinical trial for my wife. Before this is all over my beloved will probably be transformed into Frankenstein, or his bride, but who's complaining? Not me. Then I can send her over to visit her previous onocologist and turn him white with fright as she grips him around his neck and lifts him up off his feet. I somehow will never feel comfortable with accepting death without at least a can of bug spray to try to ward it off. It is just too bizzare for me what's happening here.
They have reduced my spouse to a chronic drunk who keeps mumbling she will fight but never rises off the curb. It's just insidious. It's like my wife, my poor wife has been taken over by some miniature alien creatures who landed in the black lagoon near here, and yes we do have one; It's called the San Diego Bay, and they have taken over her mind. I call this a real nightmare and the only way I will wake up from it will be the moment I die.
I am sorry Joy for rambling like this. I should stick to writing my three short verses. I am drained. It's the end of the day. Martha the niece is still here. I ought to go outside and pick some twigs and vines and make her a nest so she can hatch more invidious schemes against me. I tell you and kid you not that a few members of my wife's family do indeed look like they can lay eggs.
Thank God my dear love is not one of them, but they are like the Borg ship in Star trek. You will be assimilated or destroyed, resistence is futile. That is their mantra.
I'll probably end up looking out some third floor window all my remaining days in some tenement building somewhere with a cheap fan blowing air down my neck while painfully regretting not making the best of what I had so many years ago.
It is just horrible to be dealing with the worse there is to deal with, isn't it? Doesn't get much worse, or any worse than this does it, and whoever said that tragedy brings families together must never have had a family.
I wish I could stop the clock for a few hours just to have those few hours without any pain. I am sure you know exactly the feeling of that.
Looks like Martha is spending the night. I am thinking it might be time to run around the house in my underwear again.
And I also apologize for making light of things if only to make them a bit lighter.
Excuse me now, have to get back to growing more ulcers.
You take the best care of yourself as you are able.
And thanks Joy for your uplifting post.