In which our hero, who was born to write songs, tries to figure out his life with help from the interviewer.
Thursday, April 14, 2016
I'm hoping it's good
I'm not in the rehab center I've been in for the past two months. I was moved this morning to a hospital that has a rehab department to get me ready to go home -- or, in my case, to move into my brother's house for a while. I'll be getting three times as much therapy here, both physical and occupational. This also buys me a little time to figure out what I need to live at my brother's.
So farmboy, do you consider this a good move? It sounds pretty positive to me.
I think it's good. It's fuckin' scary just like this whole experience has been scary. I'm hoping it's good, I hope I get nice therapists who are as kind as my therapists Forrest and Chase at the place I just left. I'm gonna miss them a lot, man. Chase was, like, my pal at the nursing home. I could talk and joke around with him. And Forrest was great and sensitive and compassionate. I wish they were here right now.
Anyway, man, I gotta get ready for my first meeting with the occupational therapist here. I meet with the physical therapist in less than two hours, also.
Good luck, farmboy. You sound apprehensive. I want you to know that it's all going to go well. It's all going to be okay, farmboy. Trust me.
Oh, man, I wish I was home in my apartment already, living my life. But I guess I'm on my way, huh?
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