I might be doomed

This is a streak, of sorts. I set out six years ago to create a(nother) journal. This a natural progression of the writing begun in the early seventies after college and on the road in America in search of God knows what. In many ways it is therapeutic. It is a discipline. I like the process. When a sentence fits together like hand in glove, I smile. I need smiles these days. All I can get.

I went back to the clinic today disgusted with my lingering malady. All my friends told me I was being dumb, stubborn, proud. I didn't want to go because of the cost. I am broke. In debt. I work way too hard for way too little. One of my pals called me a communist the other day. I said, thanks comrade. I love my friends. I love my neighbors. I love my community. But there is something out of balance, My lungs and heart have hurt for almost three months. In Feb I called a dear friend, I said, please can you drive me to the ER? There, after the ECG, X-ray and blood tests, they said, go home and rest. That cost me another 3.5K.

And then I hoped and prayed time would heal all. It didn't. My friends said, you have pneumonia, you have bronchitis, you have an allergy, you have this virus or that bacteria. Go get some antibiotics. Don't be a fool.

Sure, for another $500 that I don't have.

So finally I went. The sliding-scale clinic. The receptionist remembered me from five years ago. We laughed, she from boredom, me from anxiety. Seemed there were two demographics in the waiting area: The obese or the addicted to meth. I guess those in the middle have health insurance, of some sort.

They did another ECG. Blood pressure, HR, questions like Columbo.

The Provider (I guess that is what they call Docs these days) was curious as to my 38 BPM HR. See looked again at the ECG and cited the low return rate called QT. Might be Bradycardia. She recommended an Echo test and a stress test. As well as giving a prescription for omeprazole. Because it could be as simple as gastric reflux. Or not.

So the streak continues. I write (almost) every day. My heart is on the page. This sucks. I cannot train to the degree to which I desire. The ONE thing in which I take pride, my health and fitness, is now in question. I feel like a zombie in slum circus.

The streak continues, I write, I will lead my fearless group tomorrow, pre-dawn in a spirited 60 minute spin and life will go on.

My friend Joe said the other day that the answer to every questions is....

Because.

Fearing I already knew the answer, I didn't even ask why.

Why the streak should continue.