My diagnosis is a Latin word. Strange since I had never been to South America. And was never a student in a Catholic parochial school.
I don't get it.
I couldn't spell disease if I tried.
It was not contagious except to every organ in my body.
I should have gone to a Cathedral rather than to a hospital. Maybe the Organist could have performed an ancient Latin tune that would have told my organs: "Hey Jesus says: Stop killing this guy! Don't fight with the Lord, Senor, okay?"
Instead, I had physicians removing my organs. One at a time.
The race was on and this vehicle was running out of gas.
The team of specialists stopped before all I would have become was a sac of skin with a few organs.
"Is that man, alive, nurse?", I heard a Resident ask, from the hallway.
I heard him respond: "Well, kind of. Mostly skin and bones."
I felt like a frozen package at Kroger's marked Skinless Chicken.
That's when the radiation treatments began.
If that ain't poison what is?
So I my body was being attacked by poisons from who knows where.
The doctors could not operater faster than this so-called auto-immune disease so they determined the best way to keep me alive was laser targeted poison.
That's when I decided if you're going to be poisoned, choose one that has a smooth taste. You can't taste the ones the Doc's shoot inside you except the bitterness that boiled through my stomach into bouts of endless vomit.
I prefer to order my own poison.
I have been drinking alcohol ever since.
And with the names I never encountered before.
I was never much of a drinker.
Who knew a Skinny Girl was not a person?
I ordered one in Boston and some fat guy brought me a sweet drink that I guess had reduced calories. I liked the taste.
It reminded me of when you order a Tall Blonde at Starbuck's and it is served by a short brunette or a standard-sized (whatever that is) red-head.
I have not had a bite of food since I left the hospital.
I am a purist.
Only liquids that dull my brain.
Ah, the Good Poison.
The diet of a dying man.
Five Stars.
Oh, better than that.
Because after a night at a drinking establishment, I am seeing hundreds of stars---and that's my medicine of choice.
Tastes is everything---and it makes me forget that my days are a coming to an end.
