Night Sweats, And Other Things by Shiloh

I’ve walked most of my life;
But now it’s just not my new way passing time.
Hurts like hell, sometimes,
To not be able to do things like I used to be able to do.
Limited now in where I am in my house —
Bedroom, bathroom, computer room;
Without that computer room I think I would have gone
‘round the ben long ago.
Hurts like hell, not being able to put myself to bed,
And not being able to get up unassisted.
Can’t even go out to the kitchen and fix myself something.
Gave up driving long ago, let my license expire.
Lord, that is something that I truly miss.
Can’t get in or out of the house any more,
And sure as hell can’t get in or out of a vehicle!
Legs and hips just won’t work right any more.
Tired all the time now, too.
I just don’t undersand that very well.
If I don’t do work, then why am I so tired all the time?
My mind is active enough, but my body?
Nope.
Never thought that I would spend my “golden years” like this;
Not much fun at all.
Well, that’s not quite true –
THIS – the writing – that’s sure fun for me.
Putting my mind down on paper.
Giving me some kind of place to focus on things,
Some place to let me make my mind known to others,-
If they care to see –
But I don’t think about that much any more.
Sometimes I wonder if anyone reads my words,
If they have anything they would respond with,
To my words…
But I don’t get much back from anywhere or anyone.
Oh, poor little me, right? (*chuckle*)
Sympathy, sometimes,
Is between sweat and shit in the dictionary.
My father used to say that.
Oh, he was such a wordsmith, that one.
Colorful in language, verbally violent and abusive,
A real piece of work.
I try not to emulate him.
Sometimes I find I am letting him come out from the back of my mind,
And that scares me some.
All I can do, I guess,
Is to work harder at being better.
So far I think I have really beaten the idea
That the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Oh, he taught me a lot, my father —
And I learned —
I learned how not to be.
And I’ve beaten the odds.
I think I can allow myself to feel pretty good
About that.
It really is something to be proud of.
So, I talk to myself about it here.
I guess I’m looking for some sort of acknowledgement
That my thoughts, my mind on paper, if you will,
Are worth reading. —
Sometimes.

Catyrose (50.228.184.32) -- Sunday, November 13 2022, 10:09 am

Worth the read
Yes, your words are definitely worth the read. I could relate to so much of what you wrote. Thank you for sharing your thoughts.

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