Wednesday, November 10, 2004

Our ephemeral existence

There is so much to write and so little time to do all this writing. I found out about Major Z's ailment—there is something wrong with his system that makes the red blood cells. I called him to find out how he was feeling. He told me he felt enervated; he hardly has any energy to do anything. Our biological systems are so complex it isn’t very hard for something to go wrong. You can be OK one day and next day be down with a debilitating medical condition. Such thoughts are dreadful. I wonder if I’ll get time to bring out all the books that are wound up in my brain.

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