Foolish By Appointment

"Well, the good news," Dr. Levine says, "is that you are not suffering from anemia." Dr. Levine looks at his computer screen, a graph appears. He studies it. "Yes, we have some kidney damage here but it's not serious yet. You're still okay." He scribbles in his pad. "Although your potassium levels are low," he looks up at me. "How would you like to handle this? Supplements or diet?" I shake my head...I'm not good with the diet thing, Doc. "Alright. I'll write you out a prescription for potassium tablets. I want you to come back in two weeks to take a blood test so that I can see if your levels have gone up." Sounds like a plan, Doc.

I get up. We shake hands. I head off on my merry. I was late and thought that I would miss my appointment, but no. He saw me right away. That was good. I need a break with all of these damn appointments. Thanks to WECARE I am governed by a large clock ticking on their enormous watch. I am running just steps ahead of a ponderous second hand chasing me around and around it's face. That's the purpose of WECARE I suppose. Just like the police try to wear you down by flight, WECARE tries to wear you down with appointments.

The cardiologist is next.

I walk to the Way and take it uptown to Starbucks. I get comfortable at a table and set up my laptop. I'm going to get comfortable because I intend on being here for the rest of the day. I start to log into IRC when Electra walks up to my table, standing over me. I take out my cash and peel off the money that I owe her. She also takes paperwork that I had scanned for her and had given to her through email and on he flashdrive. "Do you mind if I sit down and eat my lunch at your table, here?" She asks, pointing at the empty chair across the table from me. No problem, cop a squat. I motion to the chair. She sits and eats a lamb gyro. "My bag was stolen Friday night," she tells me. What?? To us...or to her now...the loss of your bag meant your entire life. I used to carry all that I owned in my bag. Everything. To have it stolen is to be completely robbed. Completely. So what happened? "I know how these Skeks think by now. I fell asleep in the waiting area and took my arm from around it for ten minutes...just ten minutes I nodded off and it was gone."

Consider the fact that this backpack of her's is HUGE. She must have passed out pretty solidly for someone to lift it up from beside her and run off with. I blinked. Just ten minutes. She noded ruefully. "I got up and walked around the entire Pennsylvania Station looking for it. Floor after floor, going through the garbage cans and I found it on the lower level, in a trash can, rifled through." Anything valuable taken? "My cosmetic case...what in the world would someone want with used cosmetics? And my hair curler." Pretty useless stuff. I shake my head. "But I'm fortunate," she wraps up the rest of her sandwich. "I got my clothes back. That would have been bad to have lost my wardrobe." She would be walking about in tattered, dirty clothing within weeks. I see.

She finishes her meal, puts it in her handbag, stands. "Well, it was nice catching up with you, and thanks for all of your help." Any time Electra. She walks off. I think about how we used to stay together every night. Inseparable. Watching over each other. It must be hard for her now to continue on her own without me. Or at least a little more difficult without the two of us together looking out for the other.

I remember those days, but not fondly. It was a hard life, a difficult life. There is nothing more grueling than to try to live life without sleep. Constantly worried about everything you own being stolen by tireless Skeksies that need no sleep. That wander about preying on tourists, drunken commuters and the homeless like elusive shadows that even the police are tired of chasing about. The police, whose sole purpose is not to protect the public from these thieves but to instead harass and harangue the homeless, punting them around Penn Station like misbegotten footballs.

My brother soon joins me at the establish- ment and we work until night, working on emails and the grant proposal while I would steal time to go on IRC to bullshit. Evening wore on until it was time to go, and we made our way to the Way and parted at Grand Central, where I rode home and stopped to buy some food from the grocery store before retiring home.

It was a long day. A long one. I was tired and made a quick dinner, then dove into bed. I bypassed IRC and just blogged before retiring.

You know I have to blog.

Hobobob