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3:12 p.m. - Monday, Aug. 16, 2004
Broken Toe, Broken Heart
Last Thursday I received a call from a nurse in the office of Dr. G, whom I had named to the emergency room people as my "family doctor."
She said, "We just needed to follow up with you to make sure you're seeing someone about the fracture of your toe."
"Oh, no! They told me it WASN'T broken!" I said.
I don't know whether to laugh or be annoyed.
So I am going to see a podiatrist on Wednesday. Tune in on Wednesday evening for the exciting conclusion of "Well, Is The Damn Thing Broken Or Not?"
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All of my problems stem from my perception of life as trivial and my inability to be happy with that.
It doesn't make sense: if I really believe that life is meaningless, why do I persist in going about trying to inject meaning into my own life?
If I really believe that none of us, myself included, is important, why do I keep trying to make myself important?
If only I could learn to be really, truly happy with things like winning at bingo.
I can't even SIT STILL through a bingo game.
Maybe I need medication.
Yes, it's Monday and I have the blues. Big time.
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