November 21, 1993

I've been trying to sleep, I can't. I haven't eaten in two weeks, the only nourishment is coming from a bag to my arm. For some reason I've been talking to myself in Spanish, counted to a thousand and talked to the almighty himself. He's not a very good conversationalist. At four I got up and shut my door, all the cancer patients wouldn't shut up. At five I rang
the nurses buzzer, at five because I was covered in blood. I had pulled out my IV. The nurse cleaned me up and told me I should be more careful. I think
I finally dozed off at seven.

"Ward"