I knew a nurse like this. I met her at my nurse GF's funeral after she #diedsuddenly 26Sept2021. She approached me at the funeral and asked if I was Jim. I told her I was. we chatted briefly and I gave her one of my Company cards. I didn't hear from her until her shift was over Thanksgiving night, actually about 0000 the next morning. She wanted to see me so I gave her the address and we spent the next year and a half or so together.
She wasn't happy being in the Covi Killing Zone at hospital city. I helped her find a logistics company so she could be with her family for the first time in 12 years or so. The last time I saw her was 9Feb2023 when she came by to say goodbye and drop off my keys on her way to Lithuania.
A couple weeks after she got home, her father Skyped me and let me know that Aleena died in her sleep of an apparent heart attack a few days shy of her 31st birthday. My last words to her was, "Go home and start a family."
She didn't listen, she went home and died.
Anyway, this is how she got her nickname, McMurphy. I had to retire a bunch of my black T-shirts. The tear stains faded the right shoulders after a while.
"You seem to remember that night pretty well, lieutenant."
"I don't. They're all the same. I just picked one at random."
That really hurts. My dealings with death were swift, one-shot deals, not 12 hour a day, six days a week and 8 hours on the 7th day.
Aleena was a sad, young gal. She had the run of my joint, she was driving. If she was hungry, I'd feed her. If she wanted to be left alone and just wanted another heartbeat in the building, I'd sleep on the couch. If she wanted to be frisky, I'd oblige her.
Most times on her only 8 hour day, she'd sleep them away. I fell in love with her, but her age was a problem for me. She could've been my daughter. We didn't have much personal time with her schedule. Sometimes we'd go to the store on her short day if she needed something.
I lied to you. I can't wind down. I miss the days when chick were cool, rather than purple-haired noisy cattle. I miss Ramette so bad. I had the rest of our lives planned out.
I guess I'll just give all my money to my emotional support mechanic, Chip reviving my Mercedes clown car. I'm gonna owe him another grand tomorrow, then maybe a half a grand on the clutch actuator.
I should be over the hump with that car real soon. Not like I've got a gal to spend money on right this second or anything.
I don't think there were too many women that drank in my life other than Pam. She was an agent and geared up better than me as a rule. We had to keep things on the down low. After I separated from the company, I dated my stockbroker BeckyDee. She was a drinker. There was a lot of he'in and she'in there, but I had to deal more with her hormones and every gal after that.
This was BeckyDee's favorite song...
I suppose there's some good advice in there, except for the micro- bullshit-nonsense in sunscreen. I never had that in the desert.
I was approached by an author to do an autobiography/biography about my time between 1980-1995. I talked to my civil lawyer and he says no-go due to the NDAs (Non-Disclosure Agreements) I'd signed. His words were, "Don't even think about it."
Well, you 4umers might catch me in a slip-up but it's not intentional. I can talk about it off-the-record, but not in writing. It's an interesting story that can't be told.
Like when I told Tommy that Jimmy Hoffa was disposed of in an industrial incinerator in Hamtramck (Detroit). There's no context for that conclusion, therefore it didn't happen.
Don't trust anybody named Baz. Or have stockbrokers named BeckyDee.