I’m not quite dead yet.
2025 was, perhaps, vying to be my Annus Horribilis. What it became in retrospect was simply another interesting, though sometimes difficult portion of my travels. It concluded with my Primary Care Provider telling me to either make some serious changes or get my affairs in order and reconcile myself to the fact that I would likely be in hospice care within twelve months time. My brother passed away from a heart attack in June, and one week later I found myself experiencing precisely the same thing in a room at the Days Inn in Delta, Colorado and debating whether or not to call an ambulance. I made the call, but only after moaning and tossing around on the bed and the floor for at least an hour or two and huffing poppers*, since they are, of course, a vasal dilator. What followed was two very difficult weeks in the hospital and a quadruple bypass procedure that kept me from stealing attention from my dear brother yet again one last time.
The path from that dark place to the restoration of my normal sunny disposition has not been an easy one, and it has been cluttered by many attempts to stir up the dust bunnies in my mind or find any distraction or delaying tactic to avoid coming to acceptance of where I am, what is now possible, and what will be required in order to achieve whatever is left for me. It has also been clouded by more of the usual sabotage, such as run-ins with the law and a perverse reluctance to sever relations with the hood rats and gutter snipes with whom I have always had truck of one sort or another for no discernible reason other than chasing tail or catching a rush from that roller coaster.
So now I take a veritable cohort of medications morning and night, and I am on oxygen 24/7. I no longer drink, smoke, or do drugs. I meditate daily, and I’m even giving serious thought to taking up yoga and tai chi.
My companion and my friends fuss over me to the extent that they can say they made an effort, and I love them for it. Mac secured acreage with a house so that we might have a place to do projects, and I seem to have wasted no time moving in and taking it over. I didn’t really mean to do that, but it’s a great sandbox in any case. And no matter how annoying I can be, he commands my eternal gratitude and love for everything he has done and for simply being the best version of a human being I know. Everything may happen for a reason, and I accept that. However, it would suit me just the same if I had made these changes long ago. Also, I wish I had met my model human a couple of years earlier than I did. Perhaps not. I don’t play what if like that, anyway. The hand life dealt me has been rather spectacular, and that’s been true since the day I was born.
What is left to me now is to avoid death for a bit longer, extricate myself from the toils of the criminal justice system yet again, and get another round of travel completed. My time and energies otherwise are ordered by planting schedules, mail-order nursery deliveries, and the occasional spark of genius and inspiration.
*Isobutyl nitrate