It's two o'clock in the morning and I shuffle out to the middle of the nursing home where all the portable stations were all gathered together and the night time drug dealer was unloading his totes and the nurses were checking all the drugs in.  My nurse "the blonde bombshell like Nancy Sinatra" would stop checking in drugs long enough to give me a Perc to alleviate my pain that was usually there but sometimes I would take it just to make sure the pain didn't come. Yea sometimes I could ghost feel the pain coming and I would be internally desperate for that Perc. I would know I was going to be minutes late getting the Perc and would have to feel pain come on and then go away. 

The "blonde bombshell" was telling me that she got a job at my dialysis center. For some reason my Bi-polar got brought up and after telling her how I became a programmer I found myself in a trance back in my room and recurring those years. I mean I transformed myself into a computer programmer. I dressed like them, talked the language and smoked a ton of dope. I pulled it off in the Don Johnson suits and the vintage suits. I had it down. I could get a beginning face of a program and would hit the learning curve and would buy the books of the programs and start reading and copying the code of he books. It would be grand for a while the boss was seeing results and I was making a lot of money. I could feel the beginnings of the grand slide down and my second wife and I started selling all of our trinkets back to the stores for half their value and we would lose our home hell I was making ninety thousand a year and we were living in  a tent for six months. Mental health, when it's  not working correctly and a crazy second wife doesn't matter how much money you have. We could spend it. Eventually she would leave me and I decided to become an assistant chef and would be behind the restaurant fixing meals and sauces and not having a clue in the beginning what  I was doing but I was doing something good enough to keep the job. I had worked in enough greasy spoon restaurants to give me enough gumption to keep pulling off the dream person. I would go from one job to the next and get a nice apartment and a car and was really doing well and out of nowhere like she knew it was time to come back there my second wife would be or it would be a new girl that was in  some way associated with the place I was working at. That even became the gig, get a job and find a girlfriend and start the whole process up again. 

And here I am.  A crippled up man turning sixty one years old today gasping for air and ready to become something again. I am an artist selling his works in a store in town and I am a musician which I am actually one as far back as the fifth grade with the trumpet. I became a guitar player by buying a guitar and plucking on the strings and keyboard were the same but the keys are a difficult thing to learn without a proper teacher but I just keep banging on the keys hoping for a song to come out. Through all of this illness gig my one hand is all stoved up for no reason so playing the guitar has become near impossible which is why I'm back to playing the keys. 

I decide to go look for a snack at three in the morning knowing full well  that all I will find is graham crckers. Fucking graham crackers. We are old and dying so you would think there would be things like yogurt and blueberries and strawberries and bananas which I have to admit they do have but I'm not allowed to have them because of the kidney failure which can also be a  non-functioning kidney either way I have to watch my potassium levels but I can eat tangerines but not oranges. I guess the point I'm making here is that the snacks really lack. We could have celery sticks, peanut butter and white bread and why not have some lunch meat to go with the white bread but NO!  It's  fuckng graham crachkers. 

It's time for me to go and start another adventure but I have to make sure I have someone coming in at least three times a week to make sure I'm taking my drugs properly and to keep an eye on my vitals and other needs.  it's not the same. My life is completely different. Everything surrounds the wheelchair. Everything is proponent to this god damn wheelchair. My bi-polar just doesn't work here and I can walk. I tried that a couple times when the night terrors kicked back in and I would in the middle of the night decide to propel myself from the bed and break a hip, or break a leg or just bust my a face up so a hospital bed it had to be. 

Captain Jack just fired up the magic wagon and i tumbled myself into the back and i all headed to the station to clean the blood and be given another day alive.  I'm so clean and I'm so alive after being plugged into the machines for four to eight hours. Yes alive, so they say. It seems to my life I have been reborn of course I think there would be more of us and there probably is.  leaving the confines of my simple room would probably show that to be the case. Stop wondering how many days are left and living each day to it's fullest would make more sense. Remembering that through consciousness the connection that we are all one. I am the stars and we are all connected. We are the universe in love. Through this universal love peace is created. The world can finally live in peace. 

There are lessons that we all have to learn during the process of life and even death. The reality of these lessons becomes clear as we get close to the end of life which could be at a young age or older age. As you become old this message takes it's time but  you know it's there coming to your or a loved one. we instinctively  feel like it is  not something that is talked about.  It's important that each individual journey's their own path. 

I have been given the power of opened and awakened aging. I remember this tremendous power when I was younger but I didn't really understand the power and force that this creative energy played in my life. I am given the gift of knowing this as takes place now. I understand my role in this conscious world where everything is connected and we are one and we have a long, long way to come.  

Views: 70

Comment by Maui Surfer on January 24, 2016 at 12:32pm

Universe is fabric brother ...

More power to you.

Comment by Jonathan Wolfman on January 24, 2016 at 1:04pm


Comment by Zanelle on January 24, 2016 at 1:07pm

Everything is connected. You are so smart. Thanks for writing here.

Comment by Ron Powell on January 24, 2016 at 7:43pm
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.

------From the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam


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