More Thoughts On Counting

(Written by Hennessy...posted by Kellie):

We take count of everything. Compiling data, events, making recordings and entries to demonstrate and evaluate. There is a census taking in this country, and even throughout the world. Our quest for knowledge is a daily mission. Counting, statistics, tabulations and so on become materials for which to head into the future. I want to head into that future, and I have as of late become a statistic. I am not sure just how I feel about that, but I have no choice now.

Counting and measuring and adding and subtracting give us that essential bottom line figure we seek. But what is it? And what does it mean? You have a count, it's scrutinized, and then its placed in equations. What does it equate to? That means nothing to me now, but I am being counted. I am now a person with a bad heart. A statistic. Just a number. Not even a name anymore, merely a number for scientists to work with. I am an age, a birth date, a social security number and a male in his midlife who has heart troubles. I just want to be me again, doesn’t that count for something?

I wrote before (though not in blog form) about being scared. It has consumed me, due to the fact I over react, fantasize and do not rationalize. I freak out! Right now, that is what is happening with my mind and my thoughts. I tend to overlook generalness and jump right into the glass is half empty, or even totally empty, signifying defeat. I guess I do this as if it were looked at the other way, but in the end is chaos ... I have not set myself up for failure, I am already there. Not a good thing, not at all.

I am scared. I am also greedy and I want to know immediately what is wrong. I hate waiting. It’s not fair. If my time is taken up, then so should everyone else’s and I should get my answers immediately. Sadly, it does not work this way. So I sit and wait.

I remember vividly being a child, and having to go to the doctor to get a flu shot. We went as a family, after work, in the Buick no doubt, and back in the 60’s, we all got the same needle, a glass one, and got stuck with it. Not me, nope, not me. I hid under a table and then kicked the doctor in the shin. The beginning of my hatred for medicine. It is no wonder I don’t like to go. These days, you kick someone, you go to jail. I don’t have time for that. I suppose I have to keep my mouth shut and play nice.

I told myself to do this, so I have no one to blame for any thing but me. I have taken the necessary steps in getting help, something no one in my family ever did. Why didn't they ever seek help? I know, they were too busy enjoying life and did not want to be a statistic. Ironically, they are now, as they have all passed on. The worst stat of all.

A very wise woman said:

You live longer once you realize that any time spent being unhappy is wasted.

If you don't like something change it; if you can't change it, change the way you think about it.

If it is to be, then it is up to me

We compile numbers and data for various reasons. Please Lord; let me be one of those that live. Give me strength and wisdom, help me through this. I want to live; I am on that bridge, asking to live. It is a wonderful life, and I am counting on trying to go far into it.

That is what I want to count; Life.