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March 2019

March 18, 2019

Eating dill pickles at 630a. God I lead a boring life.

Tomorrow is a trip to Asheville to see the gastroenterologist, maybe have some blood drawn. Two weeks after that it's down to Columbia for orthopedics, then back up to Asheville 9 days later for an MRI.

With the bone fractures...
seriously, at this point, I don't care if they have to re-break the damn things and set them (as long as I'm under anesthesia). Such an energy drain, this condition is.
Now eating a granny smith apple. How I love them chilled. Very juicy, cold and tart.

Found a webpage about the Faroe Islands and surfed a bit of that. Beautiful place, only about 50k people there. A bit similar to Iceland, but much smaller.

Can't believe it's been nearly six years since I went to Iceland on vacation. That was one thing about being with Marie - she liked to travel.
Me, meh. If I can't drive there I'd rather stay put, but she would handle all of the booking and arrangements and such, and was good about doing it as cheaply as possible.

So during our time together, I got to go to Vancouver, Costa Rica and Iceland. Vancouver had some cool architecture.
Costa Rica was depressing but still interesting. I felt like I was the only one in our group of four that was actually seeing the poverty there.
Iceland was interesting, but I wouldn't want to live there.
Wondering now where I'd be if I'd never met Marie and stayed together for 5 and a half years.
She was more of a people person than I am, and we should have called it quits.

The thing is, I have always been this way. I don't see it changing any time soon, either. And I can't condemn another soul to live like I do.
Those 5 and half years went by FAST, though, and now it's been almost 4 years since we finally parted ways. I say that because soon after we signed our last lease together, it was obvious that we were on the outs, to both of us, and we agreed to ride out the lease and then go our separate ways.
Helped each other move into our new places, still had sex regularly. Hell, nothing really changed much, but I had spiraled so far out of control with my drinking that I probably was in a haze all day anyway.
It did get to a point where I would come home and just be like, "I'm going in there (another room)," shut the door and drink.
Of course then I would become an asshole for a while.

And one thing I knew: When your woman starts working out for REAL, it ain't for you.
Marie had a nice body before, very curvy and with more muscle than most women, too, but she wasn't really in shape that much.
But then towards the end of the relationship she started doing these group exercise classes that the apartment complex would hold, maybe once or twice a week. Can't remember now.
But she started looking even better, to the point where I told she was starting to enter her MILF stage. She said she didn't have any children, so how could she be that? I don't know...I always went with the idea of it was an age thing related to the term instead of whether or not a woman had kids or not.

One good thing about our relationship is that we never yelled or got loud with each other. In the beginning it was really nice, too...maybe for the first two years, the first year and a half with us just visiting each other's places or hanging out, going wherever. We actually did do a lot of things. Then like three of her friends got pregnant, we saw each other every day living together and lived in a two bedroom apartment, and there were absolutely no relationship goals.
We never talked of marriage much, but I know that is what she initially wanted. I almost asked her once, when we were outside at night at looking up at the stars. I'm glad I didn't. I think I did tell her a few days later that I had almost asked her, but I don't remember what she said in response. Fast forward a few years when things were deteriorating, and she referenced that bit and stated that she would have said yes if I would have asked her that night.
Again, glad I didn't. I've never been much of a happy man, and during that time I was an unhappy drunk man. If I would have been a sober man things would have been completely different - but who knows how fate works its way through our lives? I might have never even met her if I had been sober.
I have made a bit of a resolution to not use my phone to read email or browse the web for anything. That thing was making me go blind. I haven't used it for those things in about a week and a half, and I've noticed my vision getting better, or back to where it was. It was getting bad, to the point where things were blurry when I would wake up and try to read like the weather or something on my phone.
Time for some grape drank. It's the powdered, artificial mix kind, though.
Sometime today I am going to have to wash myself. I'm still too scared of falling to actually try the shower yet, so it's a rag and soap for me. Plus I need to change clothes before tomorrow morning. I've been wearing the same thing for about the past 4 days. That's how much it hurts to take off or put on a shirt. Any shirt.)

Then at 5a we hit the road in the darkness, headed north. I hope my brother leaves the damn radio off. I can't even verbalize how much I hate talk radio of any kind, even the news. The same goes for television.
For example, when I had this latest 3 week stint in the hospital, I did not turn on the television ONCE, nor use my phone for internet. No books, either. I pretty much just was in bed for the whole 3 weeks. The only time I got up was for a walkabout with physical therapy on a daily basis, or to just get up off of my back for a while, or to use the bathroom.
I did like talking with the nurses when they made their rounds, learning a bit about their own lives.
The female aides though...some of them were just rude. I don't know if it's a regional thing or what, either. White and black nurses were all cool, the black guys that were aides were cool, but the female black aides...some of them just seemed to carry this chip on their shoulder.
My dad noticed it, too, when he would come and visit.
Grape drank done. Time to stretch out some

by Zombalaya
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