Welp, I guess yesterday qualifies as a step backward. Or maybe a leap. Whatever progress I thought I was making on the road to recovery reversed itself. Or so it would appear based on my inability to walk the 2K from my house to Hideaway Bar.

But before I was even out of the neighborhood, I was huffing and puffing so bad that I thought I was going to have to sit on the curb to catch my breath. Then the rare trike came by after dropping off a passenger and asked if I wanted a ride. And for the first time ever, I accepted.

I was equally distressed and depressed when I took my seat at the bar in Hideaway and ordered a beer. This is getting downright scary. Luckily, I had the foresight to bring along my portable nebulizer.

I loaded it up and went outside to fill my lungs with sulfate bromide. That did the trick, and soon, I went back inside to commence with the feeding. I knew I’d be making it an early night, though.

I had an SOB coupon to use at the Green Room, and the walk there from Hideaway went without incident. Jim joined me for a couple of beers, and then I got a sandwich from Sit-n-Bull to go and headed home.

Another rough night sleep-wise–lying down exacerbates the shortness of breath. This morning, I had my helper order me a pillow something like this:

I recall a long-ago visit to Monticello, the home of Thomas Jefferson in Charlottesville, Virginia. His bed was designed in a manner that required him to sleep sitting up.

But it turns out that was just one of Jefferson’s healthy lifestyle choices. “Jefferson slept five to eight hours a night in a semi-reclining position since his bed was too short for his height. This position facilitated his habit of reading in bed. “I never go to bed without an hour, or half hour’s previous reading of something moral, whereon to ruminate in the intervals of sleep.”

There is no mention of boinking the slaves, but he did live to be 84. Anyway, that’s enough history for today.

Dr. Jo’s advice is to continue using the nebulizer every couple of hours and the oxygen tank in between. The antibiotics she prescribed will hopefully clear the mucus that is causing my hacking cough. We’ll see. I’m also going to try to do another consult with the pulmonary doctor at Baypointe Hospital tomorrow.

I’ve been resting and napping all morning (I had the helper walk the dogs). I took advantage of the downtime and completed watching the Netflix series Manifest final episodes. The fact that I was motivated to see it through until the end is probably the best review I can offer. The religious overtones were lost on me, but the story of an airliner returning after being missing for over three years was pretty compelling. And there was some pretty tasty eye candy to enjoy:

Scrolling through the Netflix offerings for “What am I going to watch next?” this morning, I felt compelled to give one called Keep Breathing a look for some reason. I mean, that’s my goal, too. I’m on episode two (there are only six), and I’m not grabbed yet. We’ll see.

Look at me, revisiting my passion for American history and spending time in front of the television, both in the same post! What am I thinking? Well, don’t worry; I’m going to attempt the walk into town again tonight and hope it goes better than yesterday.

Seriously, though, I do want to be back into my hiking mode as soon as possible. And I look forward to scheduling some trips, both inside and outside the Philippines. That will be especially nice since I have a traveling partner now. Swan has been an angel in her efforts to comfort me during these troubled days. I am blessed to have her here to care for me.

Life goes on until it doesn’t, so I tried to get some living in yesterday. I picked up my electrocardiogram results from the hospital in the morning, but there is STILL no cardiologist available to review them and consult with me for my surgery clearance. Truth be told, though, I’m not sure now is the time to go under the knife. I have a hard time sleeping at night because lying down exacerbates my cough. What happens when I’m unconscious on my back with a tube down my throat?

I restocked the groceries for another week with an excursion to the Royal supermarket. Then, I got a long overdue haircut. Back home, I baked up a batch of brownies, and at beer o’clock, I walked to Baloy Beach for my weekly floating bar experience.

A pleasant couple of hours chillin’ on the water. Erik joined me shortly before I departed for his first experience on the floating bar.

I did my nightcap at Da’Kudos and enjoyed chatting with Jessa, who is now the bartender there. When I first moved here, I lived on Baloy, and Jessa worked at Treasure Island. She was my first Filipina crush as a resident, and we dated a few times before I fucked things up by being me. Still, sitting and reminiscing with her about the old times was nice.

I made it until almost 8 p.m. before catching a trike for home. Got in nearly 10,000 steps yesterday, which ain’t bad for a no-hike Tuesday. I felt like I had taken a big step forward on the road to recovery. And then I experienced a sleep-deprived night because of coughing while prone. I’m using my nebulizer and oxygen on a regular basis, but alas, I just now checked my blood oxygen level, and it is lower than ever.

Oh, well. Nothing to be done but keep on keepin’ on and hope for the best.

I’m going to attempt the Hideaway feeding later this afternoon. I’ll do my best to pace myself when I’m steppin’ out.

What a day yesterday turned out to be. I never left the house, not even for the dog walk. I was just running on empty energy-wise and had seemingly zero lung capacity. Walking to the toilet and back would leave me practically breathless. Previously, even my worst breathing attacks would pass relatively quickly once I sat down and rested some. Not this time–I was wiped out all day and all night long. Laying down seemed to exacerbate the situation, so I sat on the couch in front of the TV, finally moving to the bedroom and getting a couple of hours sleep around 4:30 a.m.–my usual wake-up time.

I don’t want to be overly dramatic, but in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but think, “Is this how it is going to end for me?” Of course, I’m still in the fight, but I hope I never experience those feelings of helplessness again.

I’d been using my usual devices throughout the day, especially my nebulizer, but to little effect.

When beer o’clock rolled around, I decided I should get tanked.

I’d never used bottled air before (except in the hospital), and I was relieved to see my oximeter hit 97 after a few minutes of breathing in some imported air. And then, a few minutes after I stopped the ingestion, I’d drop back down to the low 90s. So, I was sucking air off and on all evening, and then Swan noticed that my just-purchased tank was running low. She said I needed to get a larger tank. Well, yeah, but it was now midnight. My helper, Teri, who is a certified caregiver, suggested I take an ambulance to Baypointe Hospital’s emergency room. I told her there was no way I was going to do that as long as I was conscious. Suffice it to say, I’ve not been inspired by the competence I’ve witnessed at that institution, and I wasn’t willing to sit around in an ER at o’dark-thirty waiting to be cured. And actually, other than ingesting oxygen, I don’t know what else can be done for this situation.

Anyone, Swan got on the phone and called a friend whose husband uses oxygen and she said they had an extra tank available. Cool, I was impressed that at this late hour they were even willing to be bothered trying to help. I guess the plan was to have their private trike deliver the tank, but Swan came back a bit later and said the tank was too large for the trike. Oh well. So, I was surprised when about thirty minutes later a pickup truck pulled up in front of my house and two guys rolled this into my living room:

So, I survived the night, and I feel somewhat better today. I still haven’t left the house, but I’m ingesting air now whenever I have the urge. Dr. Jo is supposed to make a house call later (they live in the neighborhood), and I hope to consult with her about what might be causing this flare-up (is it an exacerbation of my COPD or something else?) and whether there is any magic formula that will allow me to breathe freely.

The day wasn’t a total loss, though. I fired up Netflix and binge-watched most of Season 4 of Manifest. I viewed Seasons 1-3 early last year, and then Season 4, the final season, was released last November. I saw thirteen of the twenty episodes yesterday. I was amazed that I never got sleepy. Even when I finally went to bed, I didn’t feel tired; I just knew I needed to get some rest. Coming from someone like me, who is famous for being asleep a nine every night, that’s pretty damn miraculous! Still, I prefer my customary daily rituals. I will breathe easier once I know I can be out and about spreading pesos in the bars again.

I’m hopeful the girls at Hideaway won’t be going hungry tonight. That will be contingent on me having the lung capacity to walk to the far side of town. I’ll let you know how that works out tomorrow.

Check back here tomorrow for the latest updates.

I’ve been feeling like shit lately. The worst aspect of my ill health is my labored breathing. Coupled with that, there has been an intermittent cough these past few days, which is at its worst when I’m in a prone position when trying to sleep. I got less than three hours in last night, and so on top of everything else, I’m feeling weak and drained. I was headed for the door to try and get a walk in this morning, and Swan convinced me to give it a rest. So, I turned on Netflix and randomly selected a movie called “It Could Happen to you” to watch.

Yesterday, I went to the meet-up with the Wednesday Walkers but bailed on joining the group hike. The slightest incline gets me sucking air, and I just hate to hold the other guys back from a more challenging trek. I still did a flat walk through several neighborhoods and kept going until I hit 8K. I felt pretty good about that accomplishment.

I came home, took a nap, wrote TWO blog posts, showered, and then headed into town again for the Wednesday feeding at Hideaway.

I only stayed about an hour, then headed back up the highway to my side of town. As I passed by the new Oasis bar, I saw my pal Mark, who is the bar manager, out front. Naturally I felt obligated to stop in for a beer. Or two.

My waitress said she remembered from when she worked at Queen Victoria. That is a very infrequent stop on my barhops, and she didn’t even look familiar to me. They’ve opened a kitchen at Oasis now, and the head cook, Rica, is also someone I know from my dart league days. She brought me out a free order of fries. I tried a couple to be polite, but I wasn’t hungry. The other girls finished them off quickly. I was the only customer at the time and felt like I should show my support, so I told the waitress she could pick three sandwiches for the girls to share (there were six on duty upstairs). Two club sandwiches and a burger order were placed.

I did my nightcap at Wet Spot, then headed home a little before 8:00. I went to bed early, but a hacking cough is not conducive to sleep, so I was up and down all night. The only good news is that my tooth has stopped hurting, at least for now.

Oh, and when I got home, I showed Swan my lipstick-free neck. She laughed. She’s really been an angel trying to comfort me during this uncomfortable time in my life.

Yesterday proved to be quite a pain in the ass. And back. Even my tooth hurt. And it ended with a pain in the neck. Here’s how that all went down.

My morning started with a visit to Dr. Jo for the beginning of my sciatica treatment. The first step was withdrawing a sufficient quantity of blood to harvest the needed stem cells. A needle in the vein of my arm was only the beginning of much more to come.

I left Dr. Jo’s office with instructions to return at 1:00 p.m. for the injections into my damaged back areas. So, it was off to Royal to do the weekly grocery shopping. No pain involved in that, other than paying the tab ($267.00 this week).

We drove back to Barretto, dropped off the groceries, and then returned to SBMA and the Baypointe hospital for my electrocardiogram scheduled for 11:15. I was seen right on time and they took the images of my heart in action. That’s when I learned that due to a personal emergency, the cardiologist would not be available to review the results or grant my clearance for surgery until next week. When I asked about using a different cardiologist, I was advised that there was no one else. So, my hopes for surgery this Sunday were painfully dashed.

Oh, on the way back to Baypointe, I stopped at my dentist’s office to get an appointment for this aching tooth. He’s good, but damn, no available appointments until November 17! I can’t put up with pain that long. And this treatment I’m getting from Dr. Jo precludes taking aspirin. Luckily, Paracetamol is acceptable, and it seems to be helping.

We once again returned to Barretto and had some time left before my follow-up with Dr. Jo. So we lunched at Angel’s Bakery, conveniently located below the health clinic.

After lunch, I climbed the stairs to Dr. Jo’s, and she was ready and waiting for me. This part of the treatment is where the extracts from the blood drawn earlier are injected into the damaged areas of my back. I was expecting it would feel like a shot in the arm. It did not. Much, much more painful. And I got stuck about ten times. It felt like torture. When that portion was done, I moved to a comfortable chair and had something inserted into my body intravenously. That needle insertion was comparatively painless. Had a nice chat with Dr. Chris during the thirty minutes or so it took to drain the bottle. And then it was time for the testosterone injections–in my ass. Ouch! One in each cheek.

With the medical procedures done for now (I will repeat this process twice more at three-week intervals), it was time to pay the piper. Dr. Jo has a dollar bank account, so I was able to write her a check for the $6400 I owed (that covers all three sessions). It has been years since I last wrote a paper check. I didn’t recall it being so painful in the past.

Headed back home feeling tired and sore, and took a much needed nap. Woke up at 3:30 and knew I was going to be pressed for time as beer o’clock was rapidly approaching. So, I opted to do a short post, saving the Hash story and this one for today. I guess that worked out. But there is still a bit more about yesterday to tell. Here’s the rest of the story:

Tuesday is the day I set aside for the Baloy Beach experience by spending time on the Kokomo’s floating bar. I was getting a later start than usual, and it was strange how much difference an hour or so can make.

The vibe was different than I have experienced previously. There were a lot of big spending customers and some of the girls were drunk. I don’t care about that normally, but some were randomly giving me hugs, and I really don’t like that.

Some other weird things were happening, including a couple of guys coming close to exchanging blows, but that’s what I get for my late start, I suppose.

Did my nightcap at Snackbar and then headed home to my final pain of the day.

I had invited Swan to join me on the floater, but she had a tutoring session to conduct. It was dark when she was done, and I didn’t blame her for not doing the walk out of Alta Vista at night. We agreed to go to the floating bar together on Saturday. So, anyway, when Swan greeted me at the house with a hug, she asked me what was on my neck. I had no idea what she was talking about, so she took a picture so that I could see.

So, there was no cuddling last night. We talked some more this morning, and things seem much better now. And yes, my commenters had warned me about something like this happening. Still, this was closer to me being raped than me cheating. Just sayin’.

And that’s how that my day went down.

Man, oh, man, what an afternoon. Patience isn’t my strong suit, but damn, I was sorely tested yesterday. Here’s the fucked up story.

Okay, my mission was to complete the process of getting “approval clearance” to undergo the surgery I need to remove the polyps in my nostrils. My last two steps were getting a sign-off from the pulmonary doctor I saw last week and then the cardiologist’s approval that my ticker would keep on ticking while I’m under the knife. The complicating factor is the insane process where doctors don’t make appointments; you sign in and are served on a first-in, first-seen basis. Under the best of circumstances, I find that irksome, but yesterday, I thought my head would explode.

So, my helper/caregiver, Teri, is entrusted with making all the arrangements. The pulmonary doctor was scheduled to report for duty at 2:00 p.m. and I was #4 on the list of patients to be seen. The cardiologist would be available at 4:00 p.m. and I was #2 on her list. Accordingly, I scheduled my driver to pick me, Teri and Swan up at 1:00 to take us to Baypointe Hospital. And then things started to go wrong. The scheduler said the pulmonary doctor was running “late.” Well, I didn’t want a repeat of last week’s sitting in the corridor waiting for hours to be seen. So, I had my driver take me to the mall ten minutes away from the hospital to pick up some things I needed.

Teri reported the pulmonary doc would arrive at 2:20, so we headed back to Baypointe. There, we discovered that the pulmonary doctor had been diverted to the ICU, so the wait commenced without her. She finally arrived at 2:45 and took the first of the three patients ahead of me. Forty minutes later, it was #2’s turn. I was getting nervous that, at this rate, my turn with the cardiologist would arrive before I had my pulmonary clearance. So, I devised this scheme: I’d send Swan to sit in front of the cardiologist’s office around the corner in the next hallway and to message me if my name were called. This required that my scheduling paperwork be moved to that office. So what, I figured, I’d be waiting my turn to arrive with the pulmonary doc and then move over. Nope, the hospital bureaucrazy doesn’t work that way. It was one or the other. Welp, I’d already invested over two hours of waiting time with the pulmonary doc, so I wasn’t giving up my place in line with her. If that meant rescheduling with the cardiologist, so be it.

My turn finally came with the pulmonary doctor at about 4:15. She reviewed my paperwork and the chest x-rays. Since the radiologist hadn’t completed an assessment, she went downstairs to review the actual film. She was gone for about fifteen minutes and said my lungs were clear (at least as clear as they would ever be). A few more questions, and she signed off with her approval for surgery. Now, to see the cardiologist.

The good news is I somehow managed to be next in line and only waited five minutes to see her. The bad news is my ECG showed a “slow heart rate,” and she wanted another test done. That has to be scheduled, and once the results are back, I’ll need to navigate the process for some face time with the cardiologist once again. So, I’m hoping to get all this done early next week. I’m going to see the doctor who will do the actual surgery (the one way out in San Marcelino) on Tuesday morning, and hopefully, she will schedule my operation for Sunday the 12th. Fingers crossed I can get everything done between now and then.

It was now a little after 5:00 and my hopes for attending the SOB were dashed. Checking my wallet, I saw that the doctor’s fees had depleted my cash (3500 pesos for the pulmonary and 2000 for the cardioligist) to the extent that I couldn’t pay my driver and have enough for beer drinking, without going home and restocking the billfold. Fuck it, everyone was hungry so I treated them to dinner at John’s place on the way home instead. Then back at the house, I grabbed some cash for the driver’s pay and just decided to stay at home on a Friday night. Will wonders never cease?

Teri and Swan watched television and I drank alone while singing along with some sad songs on my Spotify app. That’s even more pathetic than buying lady drinks in exchange for some company.

This afternoon, I’m headed for Angeles City. A change of scenery is bound to do me good.

I’ll be greeting you from AC in the morning. Stay tuned.

You ain’t got nothin’ to lose. Or post about—just another walkaholic/alcoholic day in the life. Well, I did change things up by turning on my TV in the afternoon to pass the time until beer o’clock. I started watching “The Ballad of Buster Scruggs” on Netflix. The link goes to a review written by reader and frequent commenter here at LTG, Kevin Kim. He tells the story much better than I could. I’ve always liked the Cohen brother’s films, and this was no exception. I especially liked that the movie is done in six vignettes, which is pleasingly appropriate given my short attention span. Well worth the watch!

I began my beer-drinking routine at Sloppy Joe’s. Jim arrived shortly after I did, so I had some company. Dave and his gal Jo showed up later and joined us. Then we all moved next door to Wet Spot, and another Hasher, Ken (Bug Fucker), filled out the group.

I’ve got more medical shit to deal with at Baypointe this afternoon. If I get done in time, I’ll attend the SOB this evening. If not, well, there are thirty-five bars in Barretto to choose from.

Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll be traveling to Angeles City to participate in Sunday’s ACH3 Anniversary Hash. Should be fun. Looks like Swan is going to come along on the condition that she doesn’t have to Hash.

The Big Hominid posed this question on his blog:

Are the words mephitic and Mephistopheles etymologically related?

I’m not sure if I’m ignorant or just apathetic, but I don’t know, and I don’t care. If you do, click the link above for the answer. I thought of that post when I saw this meme today:

And as long as we are on a roll with Star Trek humor, how about this?

Room for one more?

Anyway, it’s bound to get better around here soon.

Someday I’ll have something interesting to write about. Today is not that day. So that leaves yesterday.

I bailed on the Wednesday Walkers hike. Until I get squared away physically, I’m just unable to keep up or do anything overly exhausting. For now, all I am exercising is caution. So, the three healthy members went off to do their thing, and I joined Scott for a flat street walk.

When beer o’clock rolled around, I made my way to Hideaway to feed the girls.

When it was time to go, I checked my wallet and saw that I had a “buy one, take one” coupon good at Wet Spot and Green Room, so I headed up the highway.

I had planned to use my coupon at Wet Spot, but when I got there, I realized it still wasn’t 6 p.m. opening time, so I went next door to Green Room. And that’s where I stayed for the next hour and a half, being entertained by watching the pool players. It seems I’m easily pleased these days.

It was All Saints Day, which is a pretty big deal in this religious culture. People with deceased loved ones visited the cemeteries and were lighting candles everywhere, including the CR at Wet Spot. I asked about that and was told it was for the six souls lost in a fire that occurred in the hotel upstairs several years ago. And then when I arrived home I observed this in my carport:

I survived another night and was greeted with another fine dawn:

And Easter Mountain had a different look this morning on the dog walk:

And I was in for a surprise when Swan joined me for the dog walk:

That’s all for now, folks. Hope to see you back here someday.

I had a busier than usual Tuesday. Here’s a recap of how it went down.

The morning began with a visit to Baypointe Hospital on SBMA. I had another chest x-ray taken because last week’s was unclear. This time, the technician checked his work after each shot and repeated the process as needed. Then, it was up to the hospital’s fourth floor (there are apparently five) for a visit to the pulmonary section to measure my blood oxygen level. This was a rather painful procedure as the lab assistant withdrew blood from my wrist. She was rather cute so I had to pretend it didn’t hurt though. The results showed that my blood oxygen is in the normal range, so that was good news.

I’ll be back at Baypointe on Friday to be seen by the cardiologist and then the pulmonary physician for final clearance to have the nasal surgery performed. What a process, eh? The surgeon, Dr. A in San Marcelino, indicated she would do the operation on a Sunday. I’m hoping we can schedule this for November 12.

After Baypointe, it was time for my weekly grocery shopping at Royal, then back home for a quick blog post before heading out to see Dr. Jo. I did a brisk walk from Alta Vista, then climbed the stairs to the second-floor clinic. Dr. Chris commented on my heavy breathing when I sat down for the interview, and I told him it was pretty much my ordinary state of being. We are all hopeful the upcoming surgery will correct this issue.

Next, we discussed treatment options. Dr. Jo said that she has successfully treated sciatica with stem cell therapy. The process involves harvesting stem cells from my blood and injecting them into the damaged areas in my back. You can read more about how that works here if you are curious. Dr. Jo said that most of her patients have shown significant improvement using this procedure. So, I’ve scheduled four sessions to have this done. I’ll come in on Tuesday mornings and they’ll do the blood extraction. I’ll go on with my day (grocery shopping for me) while they use the lab at the clinic to isolate the stem cells. I’ll return four hours later for the injection. Dr. Jo said I might feel some improvement as early as the first week. My condition really isn’t that severe, but my hope is to heal and prevent worsening.

Oh, and I was shocked at how expensive this procedure is–each session is two thousand dollars. So, my four-week program would run eight thousand bucks, but I’m getting a discounted rate that reduces the charge to “only” $6500. Yikes! Still, it will be worth it if it works.

After my visit to Dr. Jo, I took a walk on the beach in Baloy.

It was kind of funny last week when the Kokomo’s Facebook page announced the re-opening of the floater. I mentioned in the comments that I would be out of town but was looking forward to visiting when I returned. The person posting for Kokomo’s said they look forward to seeing me again and that they missed my brownies. Heh. It’s nice to be famous! Naturally, I baked a batch to bring with me. Sadly, the poster wasn’t working yesterday, but the bartended promised to save her some. The rest of the girls really seemed to enjoy the chocolaty goodness.

I was surprised to be greeted by name by my next-door neighbor, Jeff. I’d only met him once since moving in, but it was nice to see him out enjoying a cold beer. Also, there were the owners of Treasure Island and Kokomo’s. I can’t remember either name at the moment, though. Shortly after I sat down, a young lady approached and asked if I remembered her. I never do, so she reminded me that she previously worked at Blue Butterfly. Oh yeah. Nice to see you again, Vanessa. Naturally, I bought her a welcome to Kokomo’s drink.

Some views from my floating vantage point:

Anyway, it’s nice to have the floater back again after the rainy season hiatus. I really enjoy the ambiance of gently rocking on the water and taking in the unique views from an offshore perspective.

My destination was Snackbar, a venue I rarely visit these days for a myriad of reasons. The owner sent me a message saying that waitress Anne was celebrating her birthday and invited me to join the festivities. Oddly enough, a Facebook memory had popped up a few minutes earlier with a picture of me and the birthday girl from last year. Since I was planning on the floating bar anyway, and the walk back up Baloy Road takes you right past Snackbar, I added a drop-in visit to my itinerary.

I arrived shortly after five but there wasn’t much of a party going on. Anne and another old favorite, Jenn, welcomed me back. There was some food prepared, but I noticed there was no birthday cake. Some party, huh? I gave Jenn some cash and sent her off to the local bakery to buy Anne a proper cake.

The food was served to the several customers, Anne blew out her candle, the birthday song was sung, and the cake was cut. And that was pretty much it.

I called it an early night and headed home. It was quite a day.

My room came with a free breakfast, but the omelet option didn’t include meat, so I ordered a side of bacon. I also ordered a Coke Zero. When it came time to pay up, the waiter handed me a bill for the bacon, one for the Coke, and one for a scoop of ice cream and a beer. He told me I had come in the night before, had the ice cream and beer, then left without paying. “You were very drunk, sir.” he stated matter-of-factly. After he mentioned it, I vaguely recalled having a nightcap. And yes, after three beer stops on the Hash trail (two beers at each) then the Hash circle and aftermath, I was more toasted than usual. Plus, I was drinking San Miguel Lights with 5% alcohol (versus the 3% in Zero).

Commenter Kevin asked if I thought it was a worthwhile trip overall. It’s good to get away from the day-to-day routines that make up my life, and as I mentioned, I enjoyed the Hash trail very much. La Union has a totally different vibe than Barretto, and I kind of like it. I could see myself living there if I ever felt the need to break away and change my life. I had pictures in yesterday’s post of that blue house on the beach next to the abandoned open-air bar, and they really fired up my imagination about the things I could do with what’s left of my life. Not likely, of course, but it is good to have options.

Another aspect of this trip was having time to reflect on how much I wish I had someone to share my life with. Seeing all the happy Hash couples reminded me of how much I used to enjoy having a partner to Hash with. I guess I should be used to eating and sleeping alone by now, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking about how nice it would be to have a woman by my side on this journey of mine. And no, I haven’t given up on Swan; it is just a sad fact that she has no interest in doing the things I enjoy.

I arrived back home around 3:30, unpacked, and then headed back into town for the Sunday feeding at Hideaway.

I wasn’t sure where, if anywhere, I wanted to go next. I was tired and feeling shitty, but I didn’t have change for a trike, so I wound up at the Green Room for a nightcap and to break a thousand peso note. My waitress gave me a nice back rub, and I rewarded her efforts with a lady drink. Then, I was on my way home before 7:30.

I had a pretty rough night with a cough and body aches. I was up before the moon went down.

It’s Hash Monday, and I’m on the fence. My back hurts, and I’m in a low energy mode. My plan at the moment is to walk out to the start of the trail (about 3K up the National Highway towards Olongapo) and see if I feel like a hill climb when I get there. If not, I’ll just keep it flat and walk back to the On-Home at the VFW.

Oh yeah, I did my weekly weigh-in this morning. 245.6, down nine pounds from last week.

Facebook memories carried me back to my last Halloween in Itaewon.