15 Nov 2003, I had a heart attack, well I had one sometime between 6 PM the 15th and 10 AM the 17th. A week later they cracked my chest and did a triple bypass. Now I am home recovering. I have tried writing but can't. Is it the meds? Is it a result of the heart attack? Is it fear? I have no idea. I know my thoughts have been disjointed and confused. First thing I worried about was my poetry. Who would take care of it if I died? Who would take care of my dog? I have made myself a recluse for many years. I wasn't comfortable in crowds and I never knew whom to trust (you would have to know my background to understand that). A good friend of mine had the same surgery in 1999, I say he is a good friend but I haven't been able to get a hold him in several months. He always said he would never allow it again. Did I really have a choice? Thoughts travel back in time to when my parents were alive. Dreams used to remain secret to me or I never had them now they are there. Some are pleasant mainly of my girl friend, most though are morbid dealing with darkness. I can't write, the other things I used to do don't interest me or can't keep my attention. I keep remembering an essay I did many years ago on “Thanatopsis of a teenager” My thanatopsis has changed over the years. I joked going under the anesthesia and coming out of it, but the whole time I fought to stay alive. Now my thoughts are why? Am I meant to do something else? Why am I still here? If I can’t write, who am I? If I don’t write, what am I?
