The Wasted, The Weary, The Worried

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It's time for Hobo personal time.

Yeah, it's time for me to come clean at some time or another. This is me coming clean. I got some bad news last month from my parents. My father was diagnosed with lung cancer, and they are giving him four to six months before he expires from it. If he takes chemotherapy, he can extend his life from six to twelve months, but that's not guaranteed. So, logically he turned down the chemo and would rather face expiration sooner than fight for just a few more months.



I don't blame him. I wouldn't either. I'd rather get it over with. I'd be scared as shit I have to tell you, but chemotherapy is a bitch and a half. And most of the time, you are miserable going through it. I can see if you're young and have much to live for, but my father is in his Eighties, and I know he doesn't WANT to perish, but he's done all he wants to do in life. He tells me that I can come down to see him if I want to. He'll send me the money, and I thank him, because I do.



No matter what has happened between us in the past, he is still my father and I owe him respect and love. So I'm packing now, and getting ready for the long bus trip down to the small town of Ahoskie, North Carolina. A town so small that it does not have an elevator or escalator in the entire town. There are no second floor buildings to speak of. None. The town is so small that it says "Welcome, you're entering Ahoskie," on one side of the sign at the town border, and it has "Goodbye, you're leaving Ahoskie," on the other side of the same sign. This fucking town is so small that they had to widen the main road just to put the yellow line down the middle. It's so small that the fire department walks to the fire when it on the other side of town.



I love small town jokes, and Ahoskie has a million of them. I marvel at small town life when I go down there, and how much people who are not around cities are insulated from almost everything cultural. I mean, there is culture in small towns, don't get me wrong, but there aren't a barrage of culture, like in New York. Where life is so large and out of control, and Ahoskie is so small and sedate. I could never leave a small town for the big city. Neither could I ever leave the big city for a small town. The culture shock is just too much to handle.



I loathe going down south though because I have to take the bus, and although it's a long ride, the real problem is being around people for hours on end. That's one thing that I find distressing. Close contact with others for extended periods of time. My stomach is turning loops in my belly because of it. It's just too long with the outside world. One, two, four...okay, lets push the fuck out of it...six hours with mankind and people all around...that's asking for much from me. BUT EIGHT TO TEN HOURS? I think I might go insane. I'm worried and concerned as to my actions. If I will suffer a panic attack while riding the bus. Will I be given some slack and have an empty seat next to me? What is this going to be like?



Also, I'm taking my baby, my laptop with me. Hopefully I can be watchful enough to get her down to North Carolina and back. If I can, and if I can catch a stray WIFI signal like I did the last time that I was down there, I'll blog if I can. I'm going to spend my last days with my father and I really don't know how I feel about that. It's not a good feeling all around. You think that you have an eternity with your parents, but life teaches you otherwise doesn't it?



I'm going down South to say goodbye to someone that I've loved all of my life. I don't know how to do that. I never had that to do before. I don't know how to do this. I'm on automatic pilot, being drawn as if pulled towards an uncertain destiny. I'm homeless. Life is hard enough. Now this? What did I tell you about misfortune following me? Maybe I was a real bastard in another life and this is penance for that.



Whatever. I take it all on the chin gracefully. Let me be and I'll do. Do onto me as you see fit, and I'll accept my fate. I'm just a bit sad, and maybe I would be miserable if not for the Wellbutrin in my bloodstream. It dulls the pain. So I'll try to keep in touch when I leave the city, and let you know how things are going.

I'll keep in touch,
HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2011/03/wasted-weary-worried.html
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