The Magic Ticket

Hi All!

I can't find my Magic Ticket.

On the way home from dinner with daughter and wife, a discussion ensued as to which parent the daughter thought of as psychotic, and who neurotic.

Daughter nailed ME on both. I carefully explained the distinction, not even a fine line, between the two. I am NOT neurotic -- I don't sweat small stuff.

I did not win the argument. But I didn't get to vote.

The restaurant was holiday-busy and my nice, red handicap ticket came in handy for a parking space.

I don't deserve one as much as many, I guess. But depending on the day, I truly can't walk a hundred feet without stopping and taking gasping for breath. Nature of my disease. Food not converted to energy. Sometimes the basement stairs become Mount Everest.

I "earned" my red placard this past June when my health was at a low ebb.

My doctor told me, not for the first time, that I would not see Christmas, and wrote up the application for a December 2006 expiration.

This month I showed up at the Doctor's Office, feeling better than I had in June. He wrote me up an extension for my placard, or ticket, if you will, that predicts I won't need it past June, 2007.

Something about those deadlines is one of the many reasons my rebellious soul keeps dragging my wasted corpus along, defying the learning of science and medicine.

I received my new "Magic Ticket" as referred to in an earlier post, and promptly lost it. And found it. And lost it again.

I am not superstitious, but part of me grasps these wonderful 6 month tickets as proof that I am still alive, and will be at least until the ticket needs renewing.

When we got home tonight, I asked everyone if the had seen my new handicap placard. The June, 2007 one. No one had, and I am totally, irrationally worried about this.

But it feels better to have gotten my psychotic/neurotic fear off of my chest.

OK, until I find it you can color me neurotic. Once I find it I will be just fa fa fa fa fffaaaa fine.

Cheers!