Mike got to stay at the Surf Motel, one last first time.
My health, my energy and my spirits are so up-and-down I really don’t know how I’m doing anymore.
In the past month, I have peed blood, sat down mid-stairway, napped all day, puked and fought for each breath. Thanks to a lung tap, a blood transfusion and new drugs, I have also had days of mobility, hours of easy breathing and bursts of energy. On Monday, I golfed, as badly as ever.
Some visitors have seen me folded in a chair, wheezing and falling asleep mid-conversation. One told another on Facebook: “I hear Mike isn’t doing well.”
Others might think “It’s remarkable how he’s bounced back” or “I knew he was faking.”
I think I figured out one secret to this surprising upsurge: ensure you have something to live for. You know, in case the wife and child are not enough. Six…
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