Monday, October 20, 2008


Tonight Stabby McStabalot ignored my pleas for mercy and continued forcing in the needle of shame.

He'd bounce into some calcification on the left and scrape some nerves.

Immensely painful.

He backed off, then tried to shove it to the right.

More excited nerves just waiting to be electrified.

The entire time I'm pleading for him to stop because he's killing me.

Apparently, the C in PCT doesn't apply to him.

Do a quick search for "Stabby McStabalot" in the upper left portion of my blog and you'll find numerous entries about this blessed malcontent who simply wants to get done early so he can go home, prance around in his boxers and watch "Seinfeld" for the billionth time.

But that's not why we're here tonight.

As I slowly made my way to freedom, an incredible sadness overwhelmed me.

And then a wonderfully healing epiphany made itself fully known to me.

What's the point of my life?

The sadness deepened when I realized there wasn't one.

My entire existence is based on the false assumption that everyone deserves a chance, that every life is precious.

From the people I've experienced within the walls of this torcherous place, that is absolutely not true.

Don't get me wrong, I include myself in this deplorable crowd.

Medicare pays thousands upon thousands upon thousands of wasted dollars keeping miserable people like myself and my fellow brethen alive.

So I ask again, what is the point of my life?

After thirty-eight years of wasted opportunity shuffling about on this little blue ball of terror, I have come to the realization that there are only two truths in this life:

True love and true health.

A truth I've known and lost. Another, I've never had.

This time I ask and I'll be more specific:

What is the point of wasting taxpayer money on my miserable existence?

Dialysis has stolen friendships. Made me completely undesirable to the fairer sex. Given me a lack of appeciation and adoration for a career that I used to hold dear.

I exercise everyday. I eat incredibly well 90% of the time. No alcohol or tabacco.

But what is the point of treating the body well and attempting to extend one's life when that life isn't worth living?

True love and true health.

If you have both, I envy your existence.

If you are of the cynical type (and if you are, I'm a fan) I can feel you asking why I don't just give into my urges to end it all.

I'll give you three reasons: Mom, Dad and my sister.

I've taken two kidneys and endless hours of worrying from their lives. It would be offensive to take my life now.

But it sure would save the government a helluva lot of money.