Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Several wounds in my feet that would not heal soon. A red flag was raised. I am growing old and complication in health is popping up. I could be diabetic. I thought of the last several months that I had been splurging in sodas. It could have triggered a family health problem with sugar in the body.

I have to check my sugar level. But before that, I have to take in antibiotics for the wounds. If ever I have had my sugar level checked and the result is positive, then there would rise another problem. The question now is whether I would have to maintain and keep my body healthy by insulin.

Then I realized that I am growing old. It is expected that my body, like a machine would succumb in its wear and tear, is starting to fail.

Well growing old is not a problem. But the problem that I see is money. Dough. I should have had a health insurance just for the sake of minimizing health related expenses.

And I see all this concern with money with the fact that I am growing old but I still have no regular job.

Drat! Life is tough.

But it is only tiny matter compared with what is within me (I think I heard this before in a commercial). I can take it.

Thursday, June 28, 2007

This story could have been started with the cliché opening phrase of happening once upon a time. Anyway, what is the difference from the old times and now? Nothing so it seems. Everything that is happening now happened before. Same old story, same old pain, same suffering, same joy and same celebration of life.

This story is about an old man. He lives in his prefab row-house alone. In the neighborhood, he is known as a good carpenter because of his relative knowledge in building houses and in repairing it.

We can say that he is a good grumpy old man. Yes, he is sociable to some extent but many a people among his neighborhood do not like him for his grumpiness. He is known for his false principle that most of the time gets him into a heated argument. So this old man does not have an intimate, close friend.

Alone and without a wife, he lives in his cold house staring at the ceiling for lizards as his neighbors describe his nights.

I am only talking about this because I saw the old man the other day loitering, sitting on a bench in the small mall near us. When our eyes met, there was that embarrassed look in his eyes. Liked a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he reasoned out that he should have had gone to the city. I said bye to him and asked if he wanted to go back to our place alone. He said no. That he would still stay there.

I just went away feeling his intense boredom about life.