The Fickle Finger

The Fickle Finger

Yesterday, was a doctors day. The beside art photo aside, everything went well. My health is Yuge! I was given at least six-months to live or at least that’s when my next round of appointments are scheduled for. I guess that I’m good until then. I feel like the King of the World! My doctor told me that he has never seen me so happy, which is a little bit depressing, since I’ve been seeing him since I first moved to Saint Louis, but we all have to peak sometime. Better late than never! I’ve been getting a lot of this, “You’ve been smiling too much”, for the last six-months, so it must be true or why else would people keep telling me this all the time? My work related anxiety dreams have pretty much receded. I actually kind of miss them. Over the summer, I would regularly wakeup in a cold sweat from a nightmare, because I had dreamt that I had either missed the big meeting or dropped a deliverable or even worse, I had just been fired. After I awoke, I soon realized that a couldn’t be fired, because I’m retired now. The sense of relief at that eventual realization more than over-weighed the previous dream’s anxiety. It was cathartic. As a child, I always feared my teachers and their tests. As an adult, I feared my bosses and their judgements. Now, I find myself in the free and clear, where I owe no allegiances, save only to those that I love. I’m running for daylight, but I don’t want to cross that finish line too soon. I’m gearing up for a marathon or at least a demi one, let’s not go crazy here. I’m looking forward to the grueling exertion and when I do eventually break the ribbon, I expect to collapse on the other side, but not too soon, because I have at least six more months to live don’t you know, my doctor told just me.

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