WAITING

Waiting. Waiting out the empty August days. Waiting for indifferent workers to bring trays of appalling food. Waiting for workers to see my call light, so they can plug in my errant phone charger.

 Waiting for phantom appointments with disconncerted doctors. Waiting for disgruntled nurses who bring a daily stash of pills. I only take Lasix (furocemide), vitamins, and Tylenol for the relentless agony on my right arm.

Now I'm taking pain pills in pathetic desperation. Now the dark mystery is solved. The pain in my arm began before I had radiation. After radiation, the pain increased. And frequent bleeding began.

What? Pain and bleeding stops after radiation.

My wound care nurse stunned me with a recent revelation.

An old cancerous lump was treated with radiation on my upper right arm. A new cancerous lump near my right elbow wasn't marked for radiation! Some medical expert must have overlooked it.

The July 14th appointment with my new oncologist was worthless. He's totally indifferent. Cold. Useless.

I have another appt. on August 14th. I'm overjoyed.

This my life.....a long, slow living death.

And afterwards?

If every one who died went to heaven, I wouldn't want to be there. Lots of scum would pollute the clouds. I don't believe in hell, an allusion of Gehenna.

Hell is right here on earth. The life-long agony that God blessed us with. Excuse me. Life has made me bitter and hateful.

CHANGE OF SUBJECT

Let's expunge the bitterness.

So far, I've had an extraordinary life. I've seen and experienced things that most people wouldn't believe or imagine. I'm hesitant to reveal things in this blog, because my adventures were incredible. When I look back at all I've done, I truly astonish myself.

I'm not thinking about my reckless youth. Dangerous nights on the unforgiving streets of Hollywood. Booze, drugs, tepid suicide attempts, passionate affairs with incredible people.

I'm thinking way, way back.

I want to write two memoirs before I part with this earth. The first will cover my early childhood, up to about 12 years. When innocence abounds.

The second will expose the raw, dark, ruthless chapters. They won't disappoint.

I have an astonishing memory, recalling things before I was a year old. I'm greatful for that.

To hell with Hollywood and wayward adventures. I'm remembering funny incidents now. I'm six years old. We're moving from New Jersey to California. Adventures galore.

My father is towing a 35 foot Anderson trailer. On a sweltering day in August, in Oklahoma, the cops pull us over. It's illegal to pull the trailer, it's too long.

The cops were pompous bullies. We got a citation to appear in court! My father put it in gear, shoved the pedal to the metal, and the Anderson trailer was flying like a bat out of hell.

"Johnny! Are they after us?"

My mother only called him Johnny when she was frightened or worried.

"To hell with those g** dam**d Okies!" He fumed.

We were about ten miles from the Texas border. As we flew through the panhandle it was only a blur. Couldn't see it.

Finally New Mexico. Suddenly hit a pothole. Mom was backing up our truck, while my father was reattatching the hitch to make sure it was secure.

It's 105 derees. No AC in the Chevy. We made it to an A&W to get a rootbeer float. 

One of our tires blew. The valve flew off and hit a nearby lady in the ass! I swear to God this is true - - I saw it happen. Dad had to apologize to the lady.

Another highway surprise on Route 66 when we were about 20 miles from the California border.

There was a large truck ahead of us. Suddenly, out of proverbial nowhere, a donkey ran onto the highway directly in front of the truck ahead of us. The animal panicked, sat on his haunches.

The driver slamed on his breaks and the truck jackknifed. As my father hit the breaks, the double door on the truck ahead opened.

Dozens of caskets (yes, coffins!) tumbled out onto the road. Fortunately they were new and unoccupied.

Another unwanted delay.

The donkey was okay.

The three of us were stunned.

Some kind of curious omen?

Welcome to California.

Jon 💚 with ample memories

Thanks for reading this!

Didn't edit this....too tired

SHORT UPDATE

In my old room I didn't have an Internet connection for nearly a month, which explains my long absence. Today I requested to be moved to another room. It's a shabby room - but at least I FINALLY have Internet. I'll write a new post ASAP.

Jon     (new room #105)

It was difficult to get another room, I had to wait several weeks.

NIGHTMARE IN SLO MO

 That's exactly how to describe it. My existence. A nightmare in slow motion. 

A never-ending surrealistic dream - - unfolding like the haunting backdrops of the 1920 German film, "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari".

Expressionism supreme.

More about that later.

I had my appointment last Tuesday. My oncologist Dr. Johnson in Cookeville Medical Center.

It went exactly as I thought - - nothing new to tell, a vast waste of time. I don't like my new oncologist. Dr. Sydris (now retired) always strived to get things done.

Dr. Johnson gives the attitude that he doesn't give a crap. He listens to my major concerns. Then says I'll need further tests ( he already has my recent horrifying PETscan). He has no appointment schedule. A nurse said it will be "weeks, not sure when."

So......I'll waste precious time, waiting forever. I know I need treatments right now. I'm holding back on this blog post, not telling everything. I don't want to be an alarmist.

Things are worse than can be imagined.

Rainy day on my appointment. I loved seeing the dramatic sky, with occasional sunlight. My only connection to the outside world.

Here, in Signature, it is my prison. I'm existing on nothing but faded memories. Lifeless. Seriously dejected.

A nightmare in slow motion.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari

A masterpiece of German horror/expressionism, 1920. Directed by Robert Wiene. 

Starring Conrad Veidt (remember him in "Casablanca" ?)

I won't go into the twisted plot. The sinister Caligari, and the somnambulist Cesare who predicts and commits murders.

When I was ten years old, I had a horror magazine that had photos from the 1920 Caligari film. I was mesmerized by the photos, but knew very little about the film.

When I was 20 years old, I finally saw the film in a silent movie theater in L.A.

The informative years when I explored everything.

This post didn't interest you, and I certainly don't blame you. It's crap.

I have absolutely NO desire to write, but I currently have an Internet connection. So I forced myself.

Jon, 💚

wondering if I'm still.... alive

P.S.

The Silent Movie Theater still exists on Fairfax in Los Angeles. It opened in 1942 and through the years had different names (The Old Time Movie Theater, The Movie Theater) and different owners.

In 1997, owner Lawrence Austin was murdered in the theater when there was a robbery.

I'VE READ ALL YOUR COMMENTS BUT DIDN'T REPLY BECAUSE I KEEP LOSING MY CONNECTION.