Thank you Buffalo Springfield.
One comment that I often thought while being at the mercy of my children’s appointments was- “I grow old waiting…”
It was true, I was once young and virile and immortal. Now I’m old, weak, and at death’s door.
It’s all my children’s fault. Or maybe it is the shear number of my children. Okay, maybe it’s the time it took to have all these children. Alright, maybe it’s just plain time.
I’m soon to be sixty-five, one of my many doctors just told me that my pancreas just got tired of producing insulin, so it just quit. One organ down, who’s next? Can organs just quit without giving notice? Isn’t there some sort of labor agreement? Union contract?
So now I import insulin to get around the work stoppage. Piece by piece I’m falling apart. Entire medical economies are looking to me to balance the budget and provide tons of profit.
I dunno, I’m helplessly entangled in the medical morass. Now I even have a podiatrist, I can’t be trusted to cut my own toenails.
