Tag Archives: story

What comes first?

In bycicle?
The ‘i’ or the ‘y’?
It must be the ‘i’.
Bicycle.
That looks better. I just need to remember.
It’s the same ‘b-i’ as bi-annual, or bi-sexual, or bi-headed. Because there are two wheels.
Why do I mess it up so consistently?
I blame my great-grandfather. My mom’s, dad’s, dad.
He changed Bykowski to Byke. My mother’s maiden name.
A family name. Damn it!
I know how to spell the family name.
But every time I try to spell ‘bicycle’, my brain inserts the ‘y’ before the ‘i’.
Will I ever get it right without thinking about it?

What is life?

I want to share something.  But, I’m going through one of these myotonic-dystrophy episodes, where exertion brings on pain and.

Moving is exertion.  The days go by, and everything I write seems to suck.

My difficulty writing is part of my MD experience.  The highs, and lows, roughly follow my symptoms through the months.

So, this evening, I vaporized Sour Diesel.

Cannabis overcomes the inertia built into my symptom-cycle.

And Sour Diesel begs for music.

I fell asleep to Kaya.   Bob Marley’s ode to marijuana and rain.

 

My windows and doors are open.  A storm approaches from California.  Sometime tomorrow, we should have our first rain since November.

We are overcast with winter warmth.  My two cats, and the neighbor’s, are playing tag in the wind.

Throughout the yard and house.

 

I woke to the question.

What Is Life?

Black Uhuru asks.

 

 

Something about this song speaks to me.

The experience of life is framed by contrasting interpretations.

The positive and the negative are both constants.

The choice is where to focus.

I need to eat dinner. But, this reminds me.

Last night, I followed-up, what I wrote in my journal, about where-to-eat-dinner, by eating-dinner at Chillie’s.  Is that what I imagine I wrote?

 

I had the flatbread, a holographic-image of my hunger.  And a beer.

Home before ten.

 

Bed before two.  Just after one.

I thought I had cleared, my belching, before sleep.

But there was this one, final, statement on-dinner.

It haunted my morning.

 

It startled me.  I was choking.

I was awake.  And, I was aware.

I was choking.

 

I have been here before.  Believe me.

It’s annoying, when it happens, now.

 

So I recognized the presence-of-mind I was in.  Gradually, when these things happen.

Usually, after a food-combination, not conducive-to-sleep.

I am calmer, with each, stupid, incident.

 

Today, this morning, just before five.

I had the presence of mind to pray, to Meta-Mind.

For calm.

 

I sat.

Up, in bed.  Eyes closed.

Strange and true.

 

My inability-to-inhale contained a calm.

I just had to wait this out.

I just needed to meditate on the experience.

 

Breathing will resume….  Any minute, now.

 

My fault.

Eating breaded-goodness, with beer, before dreams.

2014-02-07

=== 5:33 PM ===

XB

Writing table.

I’m probably too weak to be here responsibly.  But, I only realized after I was here.  Might as well make use of the trip.

Today I spoke to Aetna, my health-insurer, after speaking to the woman at the wheel-chair store.  Same woman as yesterday.  She’s in a scooter.  She told me.

She also told me my insurance is not accepted at their store.  Only Blue Cross.

My plan does cover some of the costs.  But, there’s a $600 deductible, and some other things I don’t completely recall.  They also only work with specific vendors.  The voice gave me the names of three businesses in Tempe.

I spoke to one of them.  I learned.  I also need a prescription.

So I called my doctor.  The secretary asked the purpose of my call.  After I explained, she turned me over to the physician’s assistant.

Voice mail.

I left a message.  I think she was gone for the afternoon.  I never got a call-back.