I have a sign on my front door directed to people selling magazine subscriptions, political ideology or religion (in particular I call out Jehovah’s Witnesses). The sign explains that I have a fatal illness and I don’t want to be disturbed. It cannot possibly be misinterpreted.
The other day two Jehovah’s Witnesses stopped dead in their tracks partly up my front steps. They carefully read the sign. They consulted with one another in hushed tones and at great length. What a dilemma! Clearly they needed to save my soul….and quick! But what about honoring my wishes? What Would Michael Jackson Do? The conversation continued while I spied out the window from my wheelchair like Jimmy Stewart in a much less suspenseful Rear Window.
They left their literature at the front door opened to a particular page, which boasted the title: “Are Your Problems a Punishment From God?” Sometimes life is so funny you need adult diapers.
Rest easy, though Muselings, God is not punishing you for your sins (yes, I read the article) so sin away – it is the devil who brings about your pain and suffering. I never did trust that guy. The devil reminds me of Rainer, my son’s childhood imaginary friend who drew blue crayon all over the walls, fed the dog forbidden treats and turned over toy bins into the heating vent.
All I know is that these guys were sent by angels, because they gave Mac and me a lovely laugh.
Kathy and I went to the Forbes Norris clinic yesterday. A six hour visit. Oy. It was great as always to see everyone and I didn’t cry once (so where the fuck is my cookie? I’m waiting Forbes Norris!) Speaking of treats, Kathy offered Dr. Katz a piece of gluten-free carrot cake and he explained he was “gluten-only” and that if he ate anything gluten-free he got diarrhea. Kathy always brings yummy snacks to share on these marathon days. I would say I wish she would adopt me but since she already feeds, dresses, washes, flosses and financially supports me, I guess she already has adopted me (sharing custody with Edith, Kris and Wendy).
So I did it – I tattooed “Out of Order” on both feet. Why? Because if I tattooed my fingers I’d look like Robert Mitchum in Cape Fear, my Lloyds of London insurance policy doesn’t allow me to do my legs ( I have the sexiest crippled legs in Crippledom) and diaphragm tattoos don’t show. I insert a picture here for your “Oh no, she di-dn’t!!” pleasure.
Friday Mac, Jamie and I leave for the Holyland….Experience in Orlando, Florida. Get ready for your heart shaped box of chocolates, Jesus!