Cosmic voices

You’ve heard the phrase: scary – (serious) as a heart attack. Let me tell you, scary? No. Fuckin’ painful? Hell yes. (And yeah, serious.)

I must have pissed off the gods somehow as that’s exactly what happened this morning.

First the job then this. Bad things come in threes, or so has been my experience. What’s to come next? And please don’t say the reelection of Dimwit Donald.

Yes. Heart attack. STEMI with four stents. Shee-it, I thought I was healthy. Not over weight, mild exercise, generally healthy diet.

Hope the company healthcare plan doesn’t crap out before I have to pay for all this. Gonna be like $50 grand.

I will have you know I made my stoic peace before the catheter plunged into my forearm. The Great Void, here I come.

22 thoughts on “Cosmic voices

  1. Okay you’re home now…might as well milk the healthcare system now…which is about to run out…and sign up for all sorts of therapy. Even therapy you might not have considered….massage therapy, psychological intervention…the works! Things do happen in 3s…so put some sort of carpet in you bathroom so you avoid a ‘”slip and fall…”

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  2. There are no cosmic voices and I doubt that Mole coming face to face with the Great Void is imminent. That’s not meant to downplay the situation — you will henceforth take care of yourself, and that’s an order. But it is meant as a reminder that every one of us is just as potentially close to the end as anyone else and that’s why time spent in the pursuit of anything about which you’re not passionate is time wasted. Things will almost certainly get better from here and I am happy in my confidence that you’ll write about it for a long time to come.

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    1. Didn’t seem real. I had to transfer from hospital a hospital b, full sirens and I joked with the paramedics on the way. Then, the kept me awake for the stent insertion where I joked the guy was tickling my heart. All while enduring the freight train sitting on my chest.
      Sharing shit like this here is a bit strange I guess, oh well.

      Liked by 2 people

  3. I won’t make this about me. Face to face with mortality is a thing. I will tell you my old bass player from a hundred years ago collapsed with some complete blockage in a couple, high 90s in the others. For two days after the emergency stints he was on an electric heart. Happened on Sunday. He played a gig Friday night. Earlier this year one of the stints failed. Back at it in two weeks, only because they kept him a week. So get better. It’s not a matter of fault, it’s genetics. We’ll speak when you’re afoot.

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  4. Holy shit or unholy shit, definitely shit. I can’t believe it. I was just thinking how you are only ten years older than my son Eric. You are a young dude. And you seem so healthy to boot. Definitely time to fine work that is less stressful until you hit Social Security eligibility when you can spend each and every day writing to your heart’s content with times for visiting with friends and going for beautiful life enhancing walks in the woods with your wife and friends Bad things do not have to come in threes. Just take number two as the sign to find daily peace and tell number three it will have to wait for at least another 25 years – a quarter century to rock the world with the brilliance of your imagination and writing.

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  5. Hi A. Mole,

    Of course, the hope is you are experimenting with the TH fiction/reality thingy. Somehow I think not. Tough fucking luck. Sorry. For the trifecta, how about the old burning paper bag of shit on the front porch? That will seem like child’s play, which it is, but perhaps a moment of comic/cosmic relief. Yeah, I knew the A. Mole. He lost his job, had a heart attack, and then stamped out a burning sack of shit on his front porch. All in forty-eight hours. I would imagine that was a world record of some sort. Let’s send out the Viking boat now and watch it burn. Sorry again. Duke

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