This is where I get separated from the rest of you. I have the pills. This is Appalachia. Not Paris. The drugs are not a theory. They’re an option. It’s not politik or religious. A place only I know about. A forest not bulldozed under. When they find my bones, I will have been gone a long while. I will finally get my wish to not be compelled in any way to be around or juxtaposed against other homo sapiens. I do not have to know you. I will see the sky and stars. Not the monochromatic walls of a nursing home. I will sit on the ground and sing. Leaned up against a giant tree. I am the master of my fate. No nursing home will allow itself to be challenged. I have a new service dog who makes living worth the effort. The medical community is my enemy. They corrupt even suffering. They view my dog with suspicion. Alex is a blue heeler who has been trained by real human healers. My job is to make the training fit. First, we bond. Alex does not chase wild animals. Like big cats. Or coyotes. There is a wilderness even if we as a culture cannot see its value. I have avascular necrosis. My bones break easily. My left hand is broken. Alex dislikes the splint I made. The service dog picks things up, opens doors with ropes. And lets me know with his perky ears if anyone is walking up the path to the cabin. No more hospitals. I have something to live for. Writing and publishing were mistakes. They will eat you alive by inches. Today, Alex and I are going fishing in the canoe. It will be novel for Alex. Sometimes, you just

This is where I get separated from the rest of you. I have the pills. This is Appalachia. Not Paris. The drugs are not a theory. They’re an option. It’s not politik or religious. A place only I know about. A forest not bulldozed under. When they find my bones, I will have been gone a long while. I will finally get my wish to not be compelled in any way to be around or juxtaposed against other homo sapiens. I do not have to know you. I will see the sky and stars. Not the monochromatic walls of a nursing home. I will sit on the ground and sing. Leaned up against a giant tree. I am the master of my fate. No nursing home will allow itself to be challenged. I have a new service dog who makes living worth the effort. The medical community is my enemy. They corrupt even suffering. They view my dog with suspicion. Alex is a blue heeler who has been trained by real human healers. My job is to make the training fit. First, we bond. Alex does not chase wild animals. Like big cats. Or coyotes. There is a wilderness even if we as a culture cannot see its value. I have avascular necrosis. My bones break easily. My left hand is broken. Alex dislikes the splint I made. The service dog picks things up, opens doors with ropes. And lets me know with his perky ears if anyone is walking up the path to the cabin. No more hospitals. I have something to live for. Writing and publishing were mistakes. They will eat you alive by inches. Today, Alex and I are going fishing in the canoe. It will be novel for Alex. Sometimes, you just hold on.