Nurse: The hypochondriac in room 69 is dead.
Doc: Ah, now he's exaggerating.
- - -
Am I exaggerating? Who knows?
Anyway:
Wish I were well. I am not, though.
May those who sent me e-mails and did not yet receive an answer, forgive my laziness.
Be sure, my thoughts are with you much more often than I let you know.
And, please, be sure, too, I am tired of (mentioning) my self-inflicted weakness.
Therefore, I have decided from today onwards to 'have' one post a day.
Photos, mostly.
Not many words I suppose.
Neither I may 'feel like' answering comments - if there are some.
See?! Words don't come easy to me these ... months.
So good, the more, to see / imagine your lenient smiles.
Thank you.
And: The peace of the night.
13 comments:
A photo a day will be wonderful, Sean. Best Wishes.:)
You think you've got problems? Huh. I told my doctor I think I'm a hypochondriac and he told me I was just imagining it.
Ahem... Windmills? You think they are going to stop whirling just to let you get better?
I know a hypochondriac who has actually become seriously ill - one of the most difficult patients to nurse I have ever known! Now, instead of imagining that he's sick all the time, he imagines that he's dying ...
I like the one from one of the old Lives of the Saints:
"He died, worn out by a life full of penance, illness and suffering, at the age of 95."
You think Andrew thinks he has problems!
I told Andrew's doctor that I thought he was a hypochondriac and he said, "He is but he's also imagining it!"
Eh!!!!
Whatever you do, Sean, don't feel obliged or pressured. You can always downshift to a photo a week, or a single word a month, if the going is tough! (Just make sure it's a good word.)
I guess my comment was selfish.....:(
But I repeat it: A photo a day!
Dear Sean, you've got to fight this.:)
ILLNESS (Mark R Slaughter)
Clawing at the guts of life
(The enteron exudes in desperation)
Targeting a disconnection of the fizzing brain,
Viral armies work the anatomic landscape,
-breaking, entering; raping the
very cells that constitute the unison of being.
--------------------------------
How dare they! How bloody dare they!
--------------------------------
Sh*t! You can't even see the little b*st*rds!
They're eating you away and you don't even see them-
It's as if one day, your body suddenly decided to rot-
Before your very consciousness.
--------------------------------
Nurse Claude says: You've got to fight that.
One photo a day, dear, dear Sean.;-)
It will be wonderful to see photos from you. Photos can quite often speak a thousand words :-)
But most of all take care of yourself while you recover.
Well....Maybe every 3 days? :))))))
Be well, friend.:)
It'll be great to see you back blogging regularly. I hope you do feel better soon Sean
Claude,
Andrew,
Problems? Me? Huh ...
Don QuiScottie,
what a question. Both we know windmills are much more sophisticated, don't we?
Francis,
... at the age of 113 I might agree.
Calum,
let us - for a moment - forget about Andrew and (other) hypochondriac contemporaries.
Up the Pars! [I told you, didn't I?]
Stan,
my dear friend: one day I shall find the very word to express my feelings for you. Hopefully.
Meanwhile: Thank you!
Claude,
ah! Thanks to the nurse! :)
CherryPie,
you do, of course, know how good your words make me feel, hm? :)
Thank you very much.
Claude,
so far, I am getting close to one photo/post a day, am I not?
Jams,
thank you so much for your good wishes. I suppose most people in my situation would feel obliged to say they are feeling 'much better'.
We do not need such lies, do we?
Thus again: Thank you, my friend.
Sean, you just take good care or yourself!! That's what's important. Sending good thoughts your way.
Natalie/Knatolee
Knatolee,
who am I not to obey,
dear mother of bees and hens?
Seriously: Thank you you very much, Mylady.
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