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(Credence Clearwater Revival reference)

I have a CAT scan scheduled for tomorrow. This does not mean I will make it, but I will do my best.

If I have ever had a night-before drink of whatever to go with it, I do not remember such an occasion (a medical drink, I mean). Tonight I will drink some stuff and not eat or drink again until after the CAT scan. I am not sure they know that I have to eat. It is something I do to survive, and I am on a timer, frankly.

Not in terms of survival, but in terms of eating.

Then again, we are all on a timer, aren’t we?

That is a digression.

I have a CAT scan scheduled for tomorrow morning. It is not a problem. It is what it is.

I have a niggling little issue, I must admit. The last time I had a little cough, I had to pretty much insist that I get a scan, and when I did, they said I had 10 months to live, more or less, they being OncoMan.

They were wrong, of course, because I am still here, but I have this very strong sense that he is a much smarter man than I have given him credit for (and I really think he is a smart guy, by the way), and this time he will say “Hah! Told you so!”

I do not know why that is. But I have that feeling.

Right now, the wind is raging. It is howling, to be honest. I can hear it buffet against the gutters and the shutters. It seems like a bad omen.

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