This has been the most depressing week I
can ever remember having. Sadly, that will
be reflected in my writing. I cannot let go of
the fact that I helped hundreds of people
learn to curl and dozens learn to fish and I
feel that every one of them has completely
forgotten about me. I know everyone has
issues in their lives but I am at the six-year
mark for being strapped to a hospital bed
for dialysis treatment for hours every second
day. SIX YEARS of total isolation,
praying for a visitor. I thank God for the
Hospice volunteers but I ask him where
everyone else is. Six years.
Have you ever been in a hospital for six
days? Or a couple weeks? Waiting for
anyone to walk through your door just for a
bit of a conversation? You know a bit of
how it feels.
Thanks to the few faithful friends who have
hung in there. I love you.
I have called out many, many times in the
Peak and a lot of people say they will visit
when we meet on the street. But it never
seems to matter. Those are the articles
people must skip over obviously, I do not
even cross their minds. Six f***ing years.
Sorry, this week is my pity party and I will
cry if I want to.
Oh, and if any of you ever need something
that I can help with, I will be there for you.