2003-09-06 / 2:08 p.m.

Putting things in my head that I didn't ever expect to. One drops out of college in one's third semester going "I know all I ever shall about human physiology"; unless, I suppose, one then goes into black market organ harvesting or possibly gets a job assisting undertakers (like Brad did when he was little and worked in the mortuary) or maybe gets really into Hunter S. Thompson and develops an obsession with the pineal gland or whatever the hell that was they were talking about. What makes it difficult is the constant reversal between emotionally wrenching and really goddamn tedious. "The option of non-treatment" for example, was gone over with much gnawing of the lower lip and anxiety (and the total certainty that if it were me, I wouldn't fuck with all this... would I even have a choice? Do mental patients with a history of suicidal thinking and self-destructive behavior and drug use get the option of transplants? I don't honestly think we ought to. Sorry. Am I being incorrect again?) Anyway, then it was chapter 2, and I can tell you now that creatinine, albumin, potassium, ferritin and all that other shit is just boring. "Chosing a treatment modality" and I get asked what I think; what the fuck does that matter? I'm not qualified to make that decision. I can't be responsible for the cat, for the love of God, you can't ask me things like that. "Infertility can be a problem for men on dialysis"; no, actually that one's fine... just not the other thing cause then I'm going to feel sorry for myself and I don't really have alot of room for that at the moment. Symptoms of uremia, anemia, hyperkalemia; side effects of labetalol, trental, clonidine, lasix; edema, chronic fatigue, malnutrition resulting from strict dietary regulations, muscle weakness from low potassium, hypertension. I don't want to know any of this. None. But I don't want him to have to know it, either; and if he does...

Because just watching just doesn't work for me.

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