it's been forty days and nearly forty nights since my stem cell transplant. i'm hoping that it will be one of those spiritually significant number-moments, like noah and the ark and the rain, and i'll wake up tomorrow morning to sunshine and complete and total wellness. right... i'm supposed to start work again on tuesday, for a gigantic 3-hour shift. i'm honestly not sure that i'll have the energy to stand up for 20 minutes to do a haircut. it is one year to the day since i walked 20 miles in the walk for hunger, and i was not as tired after that as i am right now, having walked a half mile four hours ago. it's hard not to be frustrated, as i feel like i should be back to normal by now. i keep getting reminded that 40 days ago, i had .06 white blood cells (normal people have between 6 and 11) and nothing to defend me from infection. still, it's not in perspective. i was basically poisoned to near death, and then brought back under careful medical supervision. the thought makes me sick, and even more tired. and there's nothing i hate more than being sick and tired.
so it was with this in mind that i left woodstar cafe (not my favorite, but damn, i just can't get enough of that iced chai) and headed back out on my walk. i can only assume i looked completely miserable.
strange man on street: you shouldn't look so sad.
me:oh yeah?
man:you should smile
me: really, now?
man:yeah, if you came and had a beer with me, it might make you smile.
he wasn't bad looking, but come on, that's just creepy. thank goodness he was fine with a thanks-but-no-thanks. yes, unfortunately, a beer with a strange man will not make me forget all my problems, smile, and write happy songs. sheryl crow i ain't.
speaking of which, i'm afraid all of my new songs sound the same. i supppose i'll leave it to my kids at open mic at pace (www.pioneerarts.org) to tell me the sordid truth. gotta love 'em.
