Yeah, well, I was bragging last night about how I was gonna get eight hours of sleep. I jinxed myself, I did. I got maybe two hours. I would fall asleep and cough and wake up when someone yelled... it was only me, of course. I'm not really sure that Karen didn't break my rib for me... I don't see how she managed to sleep at all last night, what with my coughing and yelping in pain. So anyways, another busy day at work. I called the doctor again and got a higher-powered antibiotic and some cough medicine that should last me through the night. I'm supposed to call them back if I'm not better by Thursday... And my chest x-ray looked OK, I was almost afraid to look at it. My imagination is way too active. I am just so weary of being sick and tired. I'm really starting to feel like an old man as well as look like one... I mean my attitude seems to be one of utter defeat. And yes, I just keep getting fatter and fatter, I know that has a lot to do with it. But I'm still not smoking. I'm starting to see that as my beacon, as it were... as long as I have that, there is hope. That's a symbol that yes, I can do the things that need to be done, no matter how hard they seem to be. But right now, the only beacon that is recognized is my bed...