My roomate was up and down all night. He coughing, puking, trying to gargle with analgesic mouthwash to reduce the pain. He's in week 5. I am just finishing week one.
I've been down in the common area now for about three hours and the sun is just coming up. I see the workers file into the hospital from the window. They are coming in to treat people will all manner of illness including those with what I have.
They have to deal in this shit everyday. But eight hours from now, they will file out in the same line they came in. They will spread through the city and beyond to go back to their families. They will go back to their lives.
I know I'm being melodramatic, and a few years ago, I'd call myself a little bitch. I don't use those terms anymore. I did at one time. At one time I used them with impunity. Today I don't, because I know the hurt they perpetuate. Raising a daughter will do that to a fella. Also, marrying a woman like Nancy will help you realize pretty fucking quickly that women are no wilting flowers.
Where the fuck was I going with this? I think I started out just feeling sorry for myself. Now I'm talking about my enlightenment.
To think I'm such an enlightened soul and pat myself on the back is really kind of ridiculous. To be the soft misogynist I was, really had no excuse. Logic would tell me that using that language holding those views really wasn't sensical. But everyone else did too? Sure they did. But that's just fucking lazy thinking.
Whenever I hear the excuse for biggotry "he was raised in a different era", I wan't to punch that piece of shit in the face. Once new knowledge is presented, there is no more excuse. Yes your parents were wrong, your church was wrong, but you don't have to continue the legacy of being wrong.
I am wrong about so many things. I will die being wrong about so many things. I don't think I am going to be afforded the time to fix those wrongs. I just want not to continue to do the wrongs I know are wrong.
Except perhaps engaging in self-indulgent, self-pity. Which I earnestly intended to do this morning. I wanted to write about Janet. I wanted to write about how angry I am at her distancing. I wanted to talk about how isolating it is not to be able to speak normally to another human being after they rip your tongue out of your head.
I think I'll save that for another day.
Later
Deaner
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