I was rushed to the hospital yesterday, from this very library-I was in terrible pain, sweating, gasping for breath, with Sarah standing about ten feet away, and I'm thinking, "What if I fall over dead, and my daughter has to see this?"
As it turned out, it wasn't a heart attack, or my appendix~I had a REALLY bad intestinal blockage. One X-ray and an enema later, I was on my way home, sore (still am), but much better.
Makes me think, though.
I can nuke a pound of weenies, wash them down with a Coke, and call it breakfast, eat steaks that're still quivering, ignore the pains, stiffness, and other hitches in my git-along, and pretend with all my might that I'm still living the NorthCoast Rock-and-Roll Lifestyle.
The tour bus stops here.
I finally have the kind of life I wanted, but never dared to dream for, and I'll not disrespect it or the good Lord Who gave it to me by acting like a teenager anymore.
I don't have to take up a life of rocking chairs and mush, but I've GOT to watch what I'm doing from now on.
I can still listen to the music....it doesn't get old, or make you fat.