escort service

In case anyone actually reads my posts, perhaps they (you) may notice that my writing has been more grim of late. I think there’s a reason for this. Which is that I’ve decided not to censor myself or to pretend I am something I am not. This is me. This is where my psyche goes. And tomorrow my psyche will be somewhere else. There is no guarantee that any of what I write is true. And if there is a truth in this statement, there is no guarantee that will be true tomorrow. Or even the next sentence. I sure hope this is the case because I am venturing into some dark dark places.

People who know me might be alarmed by what they are reading, but the thing is I am reasonably sure they will never even read it. Out of sight. Out of mind. My friends, the world I cherished, which inspired and nurtured me is vanishing. And I am doing what I can to not feel alarmed myself. But it isn’t enough. I can no longer dance around the notion.

But if I had to express this notion, I would say that I don’t think I enter anyone’s thoughts very often. At least I don’t feel very thought of. Day after day of not one person calling in to check on me. Nor even an email. An occasional text will pass by, but nothing substantive I can cling to for support. I’ve been thinking far too frequently that if I died here in this city where I am a stranger, if I dropped dead in my apartment,  it would probably take about a week before I was discovered.  And the scariest part of this is how powerless I feel to change the way things seem to be flowing. This is not good.

I blame this all on the colonoscopy I am supposed to have next week. They will only proceed with the procedure if I have an escort to escort me out of the hospital after the procedure. I asked the clinic if they have recommendations for people who don’t have escorts, people like me who don’t have friends or family, at least not within 1200 miles. And they did not offer any suggestions. I guess they assume that everyone has at least someone in their life.

This made me question the purpose of the colonoscopy. I guess the purpose is to rule out anything that might be considered life threatening. So the purpose at least indirectly is to help you stay alive. But it’s just kind of odd. The colonoscopy and my inability to find an escort are intertwined. What is the purpose of sustaining a life of abject isolation? What is the purpose of sustaining a life of someone who cannot even find a single person to act as an escort from the procedure that is intended to sustain a life? This is not the kind of life I would want to sustain. I’ve really had enough of this kind of life. So perhaps the colonoscopy is just not worth the ordeal.

But when I think about it, the isolation is bad enough. But isolation combined with a slow death from a disease that could have been prevented if it had been discovered early enough via the colonoscopy … that would be so infinitely much worse.

I guess I had better find an escort. Somehow.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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