You do what you gotta do.
The will to live makes you go the distance.
Plus I was stoned for the duration. 
Apparently I lack that. When I had angiography to see if a stent or two could fix my heart I refused to consent to bypass surgery should stenting not be sufficient.
The older I get, the less I’m willing to endure to continue living.
I feel you, man.
I’m losing my grip on it the harder the work is to accomplish it.
But I felt so awful the last few weeks. Even doped up as soon as the device did whatever it does I felt better instantly. During the surgery .I think, not sure I may have said “ah, that’s it”.
Funny, you particularly might find this interesting, if I could use some sort of cannabis I may have found relief from the tiny seizures I was having, and reducing the symptoms. But for other reasons I cannot use it.
So …update…
Had to go back to the hospital this morning.
The shunt that normally drains fluid(air🤭) from my battered brain. Needed repairing.
You know that place that’s missing, that real hole in the head, that vacancy? Well, fluid(spinal gunk?) fills it up and has to be kept at a manageable level. It can cause all sorts of nastiness in my pitiful life🤕.
I had a kink in the works.
Heck, I just said I had a headache. I should not have done that.
Well…I guess I’m glad I did. Now.
It could set me up for tremors or fainting spells. Don’t need another bump on the head.
What really sets my teeth is they won’t let me eat on these mornings. So I get glucose problems and hunger, nausea and if I’m lucky no severely low glucose levels.
I made it through. They repaired the thing. Got my pea-brain all dried up, sponged off and ready to think again.
I did piss Ivy off a few times.
She actually told me “Quit yer belly-achin’, girl!”
She also decided I needed a shot in the PICC line to send me to sleepy town.
I ask her “did I need it or did she need me to go to sleep?”
Whoo, boy. Shouldn’t oughta said that.
I felt bad when I woke up from my dream of the black abyss, the dark side, the hole in the universe.
Or was that the hole in my head I was dreaming about?
Too much thinking.
I came through. I’m still in some sort of my norm.
I live to bellyache another day. You hear that, I–VY!!
There’s a hole in the bucket brainpan, dear Liza, dear Liza…
Beck, you sure bring out a good story, an ongoing saga. I like it so.
I did get Tacos for my trouble!