Having woken up today should have been great but at my age saying it’s tough is a lie. Yesterday was my 87th birthday and I spent it with my dermatologist. As a gift he told me the spot on my face was skin cancer, again.it would take two months for them to fit me in, I think it’s because I don’t have insurance anymore.
It’s a good thing my pension is still good or I wouldn’t have any money to pay for the medical bills. It doesn’t go that far though, the last time I had the cancer I had to skip lunch for almost a year. I think this time I’ll give up dinner, there is a pretty waitress at the deli I go to and I got to have something in my life.
I spoke to Carl earlier this afternoon, I really shouldn’t have. Now he has the idiot idea that he will send my doctor monthly checks to pay for the surgery. Boy I remember when I met his mother, he was sixteen and hated my guts, I tell you. I had divorced my first wife a year before and I think I reminded him of his old man; he left them around the same time. Carl is 62 now and remarried. After his split about twenty years ago and his new marriage five years later, I think he understood where I was coming from.
I’m going to miss him so fucking much, I wish I didn’t have to die, I don’t want to. But if it’s not from the cancer it’s going to be from starvation. God damn it I went through this already, why do I have to do it again. Wasn’t the first time punishment enough for the divorce, hell wasn’t my Beth dying enough to tell me I was wicked in my youth. Then I have to wait two fucking months for that bastard doctor of mine to cut it out of me again. I have to stare at it every time I shave; I feel it every time I yawn. God I haven’t cried like this for a long time. Poor Carl, having to lose three parents in one lifetime is beyond anything I would wish on my enemy.
I don’t want to die but I don’t want to wake up tomorrow.