from 25MAR02

Woke up this morning thinking about the little aches and pains I had ignored over the last half year. Prone to ulcers, so I ignored those little twinges here and there, because I was like, ya know, working 70 hours a week trying to keep my head above water after the 9/11 thing. Could have been nothing—still don't really know anything except: lesions too numerous to count worrisome for subcapsular metastatic disease.

So, maybe research isn't such a great thing. I've gone down the line of thought that celiacs are more likely to develop T-cell lymphomas in the stomach that are resistant to radiation; and frankly that's pretty scary. Hard to treat and already spreading out to other organs.

And poor Chris. I haven't the guts to tell him. I will of course eventually, but I think that in person is better than over the phone. I guess I'll be making that trip to Houston after all. I know my mom didn't have to tell me—she finally succumbed to the bile poisoning and was admitted to the hospital, so it was like a production. We would all come and visit here instead of the house, it was a little exciting in a sick way.

But I recall the time spent with her as she was dying, I should have been there more, but I know she was grateful for when I was there. Jesus, how awful is that, to have rationed out visits so that she was fucking grateful for when I was there? Sounds bad. It was bad. I couldn’t bear to see it. This proud brilliant person was whittling away to a handful of skin and bones until finally it just stopped. What a blessed relief, what a wound it rent in my soul that still bleeds.

I was also thinking this morning that I should go and have a picture taken now, this week soon. While I still have the long hair that I've been cultivating, and some resemblance to me. And I really need to crack down and organize some pictures around here too.

On a side note: A in her jacket and cigarette reminds me of my mother, painfully so. The attitude, the willingness to assume a persona and carry it off. I cried when I saw that picture, it was that part of my mother that was my favorite.

Another side note. I' thinking like a 12-stepper. I was thinking of my old friend J, and how I should probably finally write to her and explain my sudden and total disappearance. I think I will if it comes down to the worst. I guess I'll give her the boxes and boxes of SF convention memorabilia I saved over the last 20 years. Won't she be thrilled? My last revenge.

But I have to dry up the water works, and go to work. That's a subject for another day.