I’m down to 193, which puts me just thirteen pounds from what I consider my ideal weight.

Of course, my entire body is comprised of spongiform tissue at the moment, but a few months in the gym, once I can breathe again, will help remedy that.

I need to thank my friend Bret who rushed me to the emergency room eleven days ago and my mother, who (correctly) kept nagging me to go. The two of them probably saved my life — which wasn’t in danger when I arrived, but might have been, one of the E.R. docs intimated, had I delayed very much longer.

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