Coleman Sweeney

The thing is, if you're a total asshole and an organ donor then your asshole-ish parts get distributed among non-assholes and change them incrementally assholishly. 

When you receive an asshole's eyeballs then you see the world through the eyeballs of an asshole.

Same with liver and kidneys. 

I know this by experience.

Through so many blood transfusions. I'm not joking either. 

At one point a long time ago I was getting a blood transfusion almost once a month. So many of them that the transfusion service came to my house. I think that home-transfusion deal happened some five or six times. I try not to recall that particular period.

Then suddenly something clicked and all of that stopped. 

When you receive five units at a time, maybe more, I forget exactly, it makes a big difference in your configuration at the cellular level. The liquid coursing through your veins and now part of you is different from the stuff that you grow yourself.

One time my previous doctor did a blood draw and it came out somewhat pink. I was admitted and transfused that day. My doctor wondered how I was even alive. My parents were with me and they hadn't a clue what was happening. I asked them to take me because I couldn't understand anything the doctor would tell me. But neither could they.

Almost all of the people who donate blood are good people so you have that going for you. But they are different from your natural self. And it shows. Especially so now that the donors are younger than yourself, myself. It's not just the rejuvenation of fresh blood, rather, it's the renewal of younger blood. There is a big difference that you can actually feel.

And sometimes it works the opposite way.

It was immediately after a serious blood transfusion that I was rejuvenated noticeably but no longer interested in producing Egyptian frescos. I was still thinking them up, and still do, but no longer interested in pouring and painting them, breaking and antiquing and mounting and framing them. Far less selling them.

It was immediately after another serious blood transfusion that I was rejuvenated noticeably to quickness but no longer interested in producing pop-up cards. I was still thinking them but the entire project collapsed because I was no longer interested in actually making them. I did make a few thereafter, but far less, and I had to move a mountain before moving my butt to make them. And the whole time I was making them I was thinking, "f-u-u-u-u-c-k." 

The real interest is no longer there.

The last time was the most noticeable. I think I received five units. I went into emergency and hoped to leave emergency that day but instead they admitted me for three days of further testing. And that experience made me highly resistant to enter emergency again. 

This issue came up again last week. I was instructed to go to emergency but I resisted for the reason given and the thing was handled differently. The difference was a much greater pain in the ass for me but overall worth it because of the unspoken threat of being admitted again. 

But that last time I did receive five units, I think. This is a very slow process and it takes the whole day. You'd think they could just squeeze it in like they take it out, but no, it goes in drop by drop. I keep thinking, "squeeze the bag" but never do. Maybe it's too great of a rush. 

When I got home I could actually feel the younger people inside me. 

I swear it. 

These donors were beautiful people. 

I could feel them. 

I could feel their beauty. Not mine.

I could feel beautiful young people inside me. Coursing through my veins. But none of them had any interest in producing pop-up cards. This was at the height of that activity. And it suddenly stopped. But not for lack of mental-interest. I was still thinking them up all over the place. I was still thinking of new designs, working out how to do them. But I had zero interest in actually making them. It was the oddest thing. And I'm certain it was the result of new blood and not the normal course of interest burn out. 

I have piles of new card stock and boxes of new glue but no interest. 

I did produce a few more after that but the drive to make them was gone. Because of that new younger blood. 

I feel I could use a dose right now. Presently I get blood work every few days. I feel like a goddamn pin cushion. Every other day, or every third day is the pattern. I had a blood draw today, only one vial this time, and another tomorrow at a different clinic. It's pissing me off. It's been a few years since that last transfusion so all those people's blood was absorbed. The blood in me now was all made by me. I think. And it's the real me that's getting pissed off about getting stuck so much. Today I nearly passed out. I could just feel the whole thing going. I wasn't myself. 

After the draw I walked past the doctor's office, door closed, I could hear him speaking to someone inside there. Then sitting in my truck and ready to come home, the doctor appeared outside and walked to my truck. He spoke to me. He said, "Wa wa wa wa wa wa-wa wa wa-wa wa wa wa-wa" the language of Peanuts adults. 

Then he went back in and came back out with packages of Metamucil. 

I don't recall it being this delicious. 

A vampire-like rejuvenation such as those earlier transfusions would work wonders but right now I just cannot even. The lack of energy shows everywhere. I have no interest in the usual things that drove my activity in the past. I tolerate things that I would not have tolerated before, like messy floors and unkempt environment. 

Before that would have driven me nuts. 

And now I don't care.

Last night it rained so I hosed off the terrace and I was all, "holy shit, this makes a big difference." 

Just vacuuming the floor inside would make a big difference but I cannot bring myself to do it. The dishes go unwashed. The mail adds up. Boxes add up all over the place.

The fifty-five gallon tank has leaked so it's filled to only one third and without proper circulation and I have a new tank in the truck and a new stand for it but I cannot bring myself to dismantle the old one and trash it and bring up the new one. So I keep driving around with the huge aquarium in the back of the truck for that moment when I can no longer stand it. All this is w-a-a-a-a-y out of character. So this blood thing needs to be sorted so I can get back on track. 

The garden plods along at one-quarter interest. 

And travel is completely out of the question. I get post cards from travelers and my only thought is "glad I'm not there." 

Glad someone else is doing that and not me. Whatever floats their stupid f'k'n boat. 

Float their actual boat. They're on boats. Flying then floating all over the place. And I'm thinking, "glad it's you and not me doing all that logistical crap." 

I have enough trouble keeping my bathrooms tidy and in workable condition. 

I am eager for this health-slump to rectify. I'm tired of being actually injured.