I went to the cardiologist today.  A waste of time.  They listen to see if my heart is beating.  And check how many times a minute.  They are the ones who put a pacemaker in--so it beats and beats and does its job.  I don’t have any beats of my own.  Just pacemaker.  I asked the cardiologist once how they would know if I died because the pacemaker would keep on beating---and the doctor said, “Oh, Janie, we would know because  you would stop talking.

I should have been offended, but it’s the truth.  I talk a lot.  Or people say I do!  Anyway, that “office appointment” is over for six months.  Then I have to do it again.  They were supposed to check out my pacemaker but they forgot and so did I.

I got back to my jail cell in time for supper.  The head honcho came by and told me that they have a one bedroom apartment coming open in two weeks--and did I want it?  Yes!!!.  I’ve been living in a one room for three months that barely has room for a TV, a bed, and a recliner.  I’m ready for two rooms!!!  Living in 12 by 20 feet seems like a cage.  It makes me ashamed when I think of all the people in the world who dream of living in a room of their own with running water and electricity.