I’m sitting here at lunch, going over in my head my last physical. Just like everyone else my age, we have to have blood work. I waited a short amount of time before the nurse called me on the phone with my results. It turns out that A) my glucose level was more elevated than in the past labs, and B) my liver enzymes were high.
Fuck. Welcome “prediabetes.” Again.
Those of you that follow me on Facebook have seen my tattoos, and each one tells a different story. My “live life” on my wrists is to remind me that there is always another way than committing suicide, my “Quoth the Raven ‘Nevermore'” is an homage of my love of Edgar Allan Poe, plus a reminder of a time when my mom and I would watch old Hammer horror films starring Vincent Price, Basil Rathbone, and Peter Cushing. My symbol on my right arm is a symbol that I have drawn and altered for 28 years, almost like a signature in symbolic form, not unlike the artist Prince went by a symbol at one time to rebel against his record label at the time and finally be his “own” entity. Now, on my writing hand, covering my finger and thumb that I clutch my favorite writing instrument, I got the tattoo, “write with might” to remind me to write with feeling, with emotion, with all the power I can muster and make something that each time I’m proud of, not just something that should be thrown in the trash because it’s another rehash of something that someone did better.
A little extreme? Maybe. But, once again, it means something to me, and it’s another conversation starter that lets others into my world, one more ink at a time.
DISCLAIMER: As most of the people that read my blog, or talk to me in person, I’m sarcastic, cynical, nihilistic, crude — hell, I could keep going, and it’s not just that I’m beating up on myself. It’s the truth. Seriously, I have difficulty taking things seriously sometimes, and I have a way of saying things that some, if not a lot of people, may not agree.
To that end, what I am about to write about is an important topic, and I’m not going to hold any punches back, but I need to get this out of my system. I need people to realize that there is “hope.”
Here we go.