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Guess who surprised me with a visit today? That’s right, it was my old parole
officer, Leonard Miazga. He’s been so busy, so we’ve only been able to
text occasionally, but he’s felt like a bad friend, not checking in on me
until now. It’s okay, I didn’t even think about it. It was nice to see him
again, though. Other than that, I have nothing to update you on. Besides the
medication issues the other day, my life doesn’t really change that much
anymore. I lie in the hospital bed, and stare at the TV most of the time. I do
my physical therapy in my own room, and out in the hallway, and sometimes do
my exercises on my own without the therapist. Then I watch more TV. The nurses
come in to give me meds, and check my vitals. It’s all very routine and
unexciting. The hospital, my security team, and the police are not letting
anyone come in for interviews, and trust me, they have been trying.
Apparently, Leonard had a hard time getting through the human barricade, even
though he was on a list of approved visitors. Ugh, I can’t wait to get out of
here. I’m not one of those people who say that they “hate hospitals” as if
that’s some kind of unique or rare personal characteristic to have. You’re not
special. I know that’s mean to say, but no one likes death and disease. I just
wanna go home because I’ve been here long enough, and I’m ready to sleep in my
own bed. I think I can swing it pretty soon here. A normal person under these
circumstances might struggle, but we have a little hospital of our own in our
house, and a small medical staff, so it shouldn’t be too hard for me to
convince the administrators that I am fine to be discharged.
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