Of all that is written, I love only what a person has written with his own blood.
I watched the nurse take another two vials of blood yesterday from my arm, wondering if my abstinance from drugs has been one of the best decisions I’ve made in my life. The needle seems to slide through to my vein with so much ease these days, I barely feel a pinch at all. Am I a closet druggie?
Actually, talking about probes I must have elluded the bad aliens a couple of days ago, because I think I’m walking ok and without discomfort. At least no one has asked whether I’ve recently spent the week riding a horse. Either that, or I’m attuned to the probe as much as I’m now use to the blood tests. Where exactly does all this blood go to after they do their testing, because if I was to learn anything at all, Twilight movies show that vampires do exist. I’m now presented with a paradox, do I reveal to the world my newfound revelation and risk the future of the nations blood banks, or do I keep quiet and let humanity plod along as we are now.
Ignorance is bliss.
I find out next Tuesday whether my body has found the strength to allay the cancer growth, or whether by misfortune or bad luck the cells have mutated to parasitic status. I no longer believe in those cartoons that show that the good guys always wins.