2025

This year has been the worst year of my life. I was hospitalized in May and came out of the hospital with a pacemaker implanted under my collarbone. I was in the Emergency Room five times this year. Two of those were probably not necessary. The other three prevented my death.

My ability to write and complete novel projects has nearly disappeared. One e-book novella was the only thing I published. I successfully moved to the farm in Iowa, separating from my wife in an attempt to live a little longer, leaving her to finish her teaching career in Texas by herself.

The year could only be worse if I die tonight, before the year ends.

But for now, I am still hopeful of more good things to come before the end. Did I live the life I was supposed to live? How could I be wrong about that? I am not. Life was good.