Way Out, Man

So the doctor said, " Heidi Sue, you are going to die of something. Some day. But my job is to manage things so that whatever it is whenever it is, doesn't happen until the last unavoidable minute. And that when that day comes we know we did everything we could to put it off. And to make it something that doesn't fuck you up for a long time before letting you go."
I couldn't really argue with that. And when I think about all the heartache I been through these last 20 or so years I don't think I could take another 20. I will do it and some days be glad to, but life is intense enough that I am secretly glad it has an ending.
So with all that in view I gotta just grit my teeth and go for it with this Interferon bullshit that is going to start up week after next.
SO when it gets to be June and I feel like poop and everything tastes like hydraulic fluid I will just take it like I meant it and let it go in the interest of a longer and cleaner old age.

If you figure the rowboat is 8 ft long and you measure it by holding a little ruler on the screen and then rotate the ruler to measure how high I am I come out to be about 7 1/2 feet tall. Sitting down. Try it. That's me on the beach behind Walker's Island down  the river near Cathlamet on the hottest day of the summer of 2010. My God I love that place.